Opposites Attract
by Missus T
Summary: A late night meeting, two broken hearts and feelings that shouldn't make sense. Sometimes you're most comfortable when you're completely out of your element. AH Amelia/Tray.
1. Roadside Assistance

**Opposites Attract**

**Chapter 1: Roadside Assistance**

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I'm just having fun playing with a different pair for a while. **

**A/N:**

***Um* If you just got alerted to this as a fic for A Christmas Carol...well...it's a long story about FFnet being a piece of crap...I'll edit as soon as it lets me. I swear.  
**

Hi! Good to see everyone! So...I was going to write this nice A/N about what I've been doing since HE finished posting...but really - all I've been doing is catching up on reading and continuing to write. Oh, and becoming seriously obsessed with Sons of Anarchy. OMFG. But I digress...

Here's my latest endeavor...A Tray and Amelia story that I hope you will give a chance. I think you'll really like them. I'm kind of smitten...and **EtheHunter** and **A Redhead Thing** are fighting over Tray...Big thanks to those ladies for pre-reading and betaing.

OH - and I started playing around with banner making! Here's the banner I made for this fic! http:/img863(dot)imageshack(dot)us/i/oppositesbanner3(dot)jpg/

Anyway...thanks in advance for reading. I'll shut up.

oo00oo00oo

Sometimes, the most important moments in our lives are ones we aren't expecting or prepared for; they take us by surprise and leave us shaken. Most of the time, the magnitude of these surprises is self-evident, but occasionally, it's not until the dust settles that we really comprehend the significance...

oo00oo00oo

"After all of this, if they decide on a C-section, I will kill you, Tray Dawson."

"Oh, baby, you don't mean that." He wiped her forehead with a cool damp cloth. "You're doing so good. Just a little longer."

The nurse chimed in, "Amelia, you're doing great. The baby is just taking his time to come out is all. He likes it in there all warm and cozy."

She cried out as another contraction hit, tightening her midsection and shooting pain through her body. "Then give me an ice bath or something and get him the fuck out."

"Shh. Take some deep breaths, baby. It's okay."

"Deep breaths? Deep fucking breaths? Look at me! I'm tiny, well I was tiny before I managed to mate with a man-beast! It's not supposed to work like that! You don't see Great Danes and Chihuahua's making babies."

He laughed despite himself, and she shot him a look that could kill. She was fiery, that was for sure, and he loved it about her. His even temper normally worked quite well to calm her down, but not at this point, after hours in the delivery room.

"Your family gives birth to giants. I have no idea how that is physically possible." Her voice broke, and she sobbed. "My life was not supposed to be like this."

"I know, baby. It's okay."

He leaned forward to give her a half hug as she lay upon the hospital bed, propped up with her feet in the stirrups. He thanked god they'd pulled a sheet over her legs that covered up whatever it was the doctor was doing down below. He didn't need to see that; he had a feeling that could fuck a man up.

She groaned as the next contraction rolled through, then muttered, "I was supposed to marry an oil baron."

The nurse put her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Mr. Dawson, that's just the pain talking. She doesn't really mean it."

He threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, she does. She's been telling me that when she gets upset since the night we met."

00oo00oo00oo00

**Almost Three Years Earlier - **

Amelia Broadway stormed into her father's home office. It was after 9 p.m., yet she knew he would still be there behind his heavy cherry desk with his sleeves rolled up, and his collar open.

"How could you?"

He sighed loudly but never looked up from the documents before him.

"I said, how could you?"

He straightened up and looked over the edge of his reading glasses at her. "I heard you the first time, young lady." He spoke with a heavy drawl, the word 'I' stretching out to sound like 'ah.' "Can't you see that I'm busy? I don't have time for your dithering this evening."

She fumed, blinking her eyes and clenching her teeth. "Daddy, why did you send me to dinner with William Compton?"

He sighed. "He's a nice man. The Comptons are a good family. They've been in the shipping business as long as men have been pulling shrimp out of the Gulf. You could do worse."

She'd been eating dinner with William at The Grill Room, upstairs in the Windsor Court Hotel, when she sighed, setting down her fork. "I'm not really sure this is working out."

They had hardly said two words to each other since they'd ordered dinner. William seemed very straight-laced, and although she'd been raised to be a good southern girl, she was more of a hellion than a belle at heart.

He smiled, shyly. "You're not really my type."

"Excuse me?" She wondered what he was trying to imply.

He chuckled and looked around quickly before leaning forward. "Miss Broadway, I'm not attracted to women."

She looked at him blankly for a second before she understood what he meant. "Then what the hell are we doing here?"

He smiled, putting his chin in his hand. "I cannot remain a bachelor forever. The heir to the Compton fortune needs to marry and have children. I don't pretend not to realize that."

"But you are willing to _pretend _to be someone's husband?"

"That's a bit harsh. I'm just looking for an understanding wife. I would be a husband in every other sense of the word, and I'm willing to procreate."

She swallowed the rest of her wine in one gulp, unable to speak, and then she slowly set her glass on the table. She took a deep breath and realized that even though William was a jackass, he was an unfortunate victim of his family's machinations just as much as she was. They finished dinner talking about common friends in the country club scene, and she excused herself before dessert to go confront her father.

"Daddy, William is gay."

"I don't care who he has sex with if ya'll join our families together. Can you imagine? Compton tankers shipping Carmichael oil. It's genius."

"Do you hear yourself? You want me to marry a gay man so you can make more money?"

He sighed and took his glasses off, tossing them on his desk. "If you would get serious about finding a husband I wouldn't have to set you up with anyone at all. And it's not just about the money. I need a grandchild from good stock to carry on the family name, and you're not getting any younger."

"Daddy!"

"What? I'm not going to live forever!" He slapped the table with his hand. "I don't care if ya'll speak a word to each other after ya'll say "I do." Ya'll don't even have to fuck to get me a grandchild. I'll pay to have his seed put in you."

She stood there, shocked at his words. Her father had always been a hard hearted son-of-a-bitch, but this was a bit much even for him. She opened her mouth to tell him exactly where he could put William Compton's seed, but she was so angry that she couldn't form the words. She turned on her heel and stalked through his ostentatious home and out to her car. She dropped the little convertible into gear and drove, letting the car eat up the miles as she replayed the evening over and over in her head.

Tray Dawson was working late, trying to finish the job on a muffler for his cousin Selah. She was a single mom, and he'd loaned her a car to drive, but he knew she wanted her minivan back; it just made things easier for her and she didn't like feeling dependent on anyone.

When he was done, he sat down to look over some paperwork at his desk, and the phone rang. He sighed. Owning his own business had its perks but also meant when the phone rang at 11:30 at night, he was the one that had to respond to the call.

Amelia laid her head on the steering wheel and waited. The 'Check Engine' light had flashed as she passed the exit for Ruston and then a little while later, the power steering cut off. She had managed to coast off the side of the road and put the hazard lights on before calling the toll free number for road-side assistance. They said they would send an _approved_ tow truck to take her to an _approved _mechanic. She sighed, hoping that all of that _approval_ also meant that the tow company was near-by.

Thirty minutes later a tow truck pulled up in front of her and parked on the side of the road. She watched a giant of a man with thick dark hair climb out of the truck. He walked towards her, dressed in jeans and a tight black t-shirt. When he was even with the car, he smiled kindly at her through the window, and she noticed he had interesting bluish-green eyes that stood out with his dark hair.

After a few seconds, he startled her, motioning for her to roll down the window, since she hadn't yet. She pushed the button and the window slid down, while she raised an eyebrow at him and trying to regain control of herself.

"Are you Miss Broadway? I'm Tray Dawson. If you'll hop out of the car, I'll get you hooked up and towed to my shop."

She daintily stepped out of the car, muttering that she didn't hop. Slinging her large purse over her shoulder, she stood in the middle of the deserted road, waiting.

He took in her high heels and expensive looking purple dress but was struck by the waves of long dark hair that fell over her shoulders. Clearing his throat, he made himself focus on the task at hand. "You might want to step to the curb, ma'am, or you can wait in the car. We'll be on the road in no time."

"You do know to be careful with the car? Miata's have a low clearance."

"I do, ma'am. I don't see a lot of these, but I've worked on my share and towed them as well. You're in good hands."

She huffed and went to sit in the cab of the truck. It was dark and late, and there were bugs circling in the spotlight shining from his truck so he could see what he was doing. She was mad at her father for being a complete asshole, and she was mad at herself for managing to drive herself into the middle of nowhere without even realizing it.

He finished securing the car and joined her in the truck. Turning the key, he started the engine and began to drive them to his shop without so much as a word. In the first few minutes, he thought once or twice about starting a conversation with her, but, although she was hot, the woman looked like a major bitch, and she hadn't given him any indication that she wasn't, with her snotty question about towing her little sports car. Did he know to be careful with it? _No honey, I'm going to be a Neanderthal and just crank the thing up as high as I can so I drag the ass of the car on the pavement the whole way into town. _He made a disgusted sound without really meaning to and caught her glancing at him sideways, her eyes dark and tired.

"Sorry. Long night."

"Well, I'm sure you're getting paid well to be on call or something."

He grinned at her. "Did you miss the part where I said we were going to my shop? Or the name on the truck that says Dawson's? That's me, honey. I'm not getting anything extra for this."

"Oh," she said quietly, but she didn't apologize. She was tired and upset, and suddenly she just wanted to go home.

A few minutes later they pulled into the driveway of his shop, and he pulled up in front of the building, putting the truck in park.

"You can hop out here and wait inside. There's coffee on. I'll get the car unloaded, and then I'll run you to wherever you've made arrangements to stay tonight, or we can wait for someone to pick you up."

She looked at him blankly for a second and then nodded, trying not to let him see that she hadn't thought that far ahead. She let herself into his office and began searching for a hotel on her iPhone. She was almost two hours away from anyone she knew so getting a ride wasn't an option. She was mentally cursing herself for getting so upset with her father that she'd just driven off with no destination in mind.

Her iPhone was taking forever because she barely had two bars of reception, and she was starting to panic a little, thinking there might not be anywhere for her to go in this god-forsaken town that she didn't even know the name of. She was searching the internet for things near Ruston since that was the last exit she'd seen. Dawson came in and interrupted her thoughts.

"Alright. What's the plan, Miss Broadway? Do you need a ride somewhere or is someone coming to get you?"

She swallowed her pride and began politely kissing his ass. "It's Amelia. And, I sort of am stuck here."

"Excuse me?"

"Is there a hotel in town? Nothing is coming up on my phone. I'm from New Orleans, and I don't suspect anyone is driving over here at this time of night to get me."

He snorted at her. "Sounds like you've got a problem."

She looked at him, with his stern expression, and started laughing. Then the laughter became tears and before she knew what she was doing she was sobbing.

"Oh, hey. Lady. Miss Broadway, I mean, Amelia. Look, we'll figure something out. Um. Can I get you a tissue or something? Shit. Please stop crying."

She hiccupped, but the tears wouldn't stop. "I'm sorry. You wouldn't believe the shitty night that I've had. It was just all too much. I mean, he was gay! Can you believe that?" A bubble of laughter escaped but didn't replace the tears as she looked up at him, her eyes overflowing. He had no idea what had happened, but his heart broke a little when she whispered, "He didn't even care."

He sat down in the chair next to her and cautiously put a hand on her back. "I don't know what you're talking about, but it can't be that bad." He couldn't believe he was doing it, but he heard himself say, "Come on back to the house with me. We'll find you something to drink, some coffee, a shot, whatever you want, and you can sleep in my guest room. Don't worry about finding somewhere. There's no hotel within twenty-five miles, so you might as well stay here."

She hesitated for a second. "Are you sure?"

"Miss Broadway, there's really no place else for you to go at this hour, and I have a guest room."

She nodded and wiped her eyes. He helped her up and led her behind the shop to his house. It was set back in the trees, with wind chimes on the front porch making a light tinkling sound, and it was much nicer than she expected, but she didn't want to tell him that.

They went into the living room, and she took a seat on his couch, looking around at his tidy and comfortable home.

"Would you like a drink?" His voice was deep and loud in the quiet night.

"Yes," she nodded. "I think I'll take you up on the shot."

He grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel's from the kitchen and raised an eyebrow to ask her if it was okay. When she nodded, he poured two glasses, then brought the bottle to the coffee table and took a seat across from her in a wing chair. They sat quietly, neither sure what to say. Eventually, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the couch. When she lifted her head, she exhaled and spoke.

"I'm supposed to marry an oil baron."

"Okay." He had no idea what to say to that.

"I always thought it was about money, but apparently it's about breeding too."

"_Okay_," he repeated.

"Tonight my father set me up with a man who was openly gay, just to try to make a connection between our families. I went to talk to him about it, and he didn't care. He said he'd pay to have me inseminated by a gay man to have his grandchild! Can you believe that? I couldn't listen to anything else. I just left."

He nodded. "That's kind of nuts." He couldn't imagine what kind of man her father was. Who would say something like that at all, let alone to their daughter?

"Yeah," she snorted. "Fuck my life, right?" She leaned her head back on the couch and closed her eyes again.

After a few minutes of quiet, he wasn't sure if she had fallen asleep. He didn't want to startle her, but quietly he asked, "What do _you_ want?"

Her head snapped up, but she looked at him with tired eyes.

"Your father wants money and a grandchild. What do you want?"

"I want to be happy. And being rich wouldn't hurt," she laughed half-heartedly.

"The two of those don't always go together."

"I suppose they don't." She sighed, then furrowed her brow. " Are you happy?"

"Mostly."

"What's missing?"

He smiled sadly at her and hesitated to answer.

"Oh, I'm sorry. That's too personal," she apologized, realizing she had gone to far.

"No, it's okay. I wish I had a family. My parents are dead. I just have a mess of cousins and aunts and uncles, but it's not the same. I was married for a year, but it didn't work out."

"Wow. What happened?"

"I married this girl, Marnie, right out of high school. I thought we wanted the same things, but it turned out she just wanted out of her parents' house. She didn't want to work, and her idea of being a housewife meant trashing the place for me to clean up. We'd been married just under a year when my cousin Crystal told me to call in sick and follow her one day. I found out she'd been cheating on me while I was at work for months."

"That sucks."

He nodded. "That's a good way to describe it."

"How long has it been?"

"Nine years," he sighed.

She cocked her head, trying to understand his sigh. "Do you miss her?"

"No." He laughed. "I miss what I never had, if that makes sense. You know, having someone to come home to and share things with? That's what my parents had, and it's what I expected when I got married, but it never happened."

"So, you're lonely?"

He shrugged, trying to brush off her question. "Do you want a family?"

It was her turn to shrug. "I don't want to be alone."

"Amen to that," he said as he clinked their glasses and threw back the remainder of his glass of Jack.

For almost three hours, into the wee hours of the night, they talked about family, high school, best friends, favorite bands and movies, and much to his surprise, cars. They felt comfortable with each other and told each other more than they normally would have without realizing it.

They had somehow begun comparing stories about their friends' bachelor and bachelorette parties. She was telling about a last minute trip to Vegas with some sorority sisters and paused to yawn.

"Aw, hell. What was I saying?"

He laughed. "You were telling me about running through the airport in Atlanta, dragging a garment-bag behind you to catch a flight."

"Yeah," she said, yawning again.

He stopped her before she continued, putting a hand on her arm. "Come on. You're exhausted." He stood and reached for her hand. "Let me show you the bathroom, and I'll get you a t-shirt or something to sleep in."

"I guess you're right." She nodded with a laugh and let him pull her up before following him through the house.

"I don't have an extra toothbrush, so you'll have to use your finger. Here are some clean towels, and the guest room is right next door." He spoke quietly, as if he was talking to himself, but she listened when he continued, "I'll take a look at your car in the morning, and we'll figure out what to do with you. Okay?"

"Okay," she replied equally as quietly, sounding so sad he couldn't take it anymore.

He gathered her gently into his arms and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Miss Broadway. It will all look better in the morning."

"I hope you're right."

He gave her a final squeeze, trying not to cross any boundaries, but still let her know that he felt for her, then let her go and went to his own room.

oo00oo00oo

**A/N:**

Thanks so much for reading. I hope you take a minute to let me know what you think! I'm planning to post on Tuesdays...hopefully FFnet will cooperate with that plan.

Oh, in case you were thinking - I thought Tray had brown eyes...Or I thought Amelia had a pixie hair cut... I see those two as Gerard Butler and Kate Beckinsale (see the banner linked at the top) - so I used their eye color and hair length... Sorry if you were confused. Also, how can you not love GB's eyes? YUM.


	2. Nocturnal Visits

**Opposites Attract**

**Chapter 2: Nocturnal Visits**

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just like to put them under the microscope and make them squirm.**

**A/N: **

Yay! It sounds like you all are up for the Amelia/Tray adventure! Thanks for giving them a chance!

Big thanks to **A Redhead Thing** and **EtheHunter** who have been drooling over Tray for literally months now. They've been awesome cheerleaders and betas. I can't thank them enough.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

When she woke in the morning to the smell of coffee, he was nowhere to be seen. She assumed he had gone to the shop but didn't hurry to join him. She changed into her own clothing and made her way to the kitchen. She sat, sipping her coffee, thinking about all they had talked about, and the revelation that her father really didn't care if she was happy or not. Should she break out on her own and find her own romantic and rich bachelors? Did being rich really matter? As Tray said, happiness and money didn't always come together. Or was that way too enlightened for her to think about? She snorted, thinking about the giant of a man with the dark skin and unruly hair as being enlightened. The words shouldn't go together, but after their conversation the night before, she realized there was more substance to Tray Dawson than she'd originally thought.

When made her way to the kitchen he was already hard at work on her car, wondering why a beautiful woman like Amelia Broadway was relying on her father to find a date. She seemed a little socially awkward, but it was probably just the sobbing that made her seem crazy. She had damn near told him her life story the night before, and it should have made him want her to get as far away as possible. It should have, but it didn't.

She was thoughtful, although a bit immature, and she understood that you didn't have to be alone to be lonely. She told him that she worked part time as a sales person in an art supply store that her father owned, and she occasionally helped with the accounting. She lived in his guest house, and ate all of her meals in his larger home. She hadn't had a reason to try to live on her own after college, as her father took care of everything while gently trying to direct her life, perhaps without her even noticing.

As he tightened down the radiator, andhethought about asking her to stay for dinner, but he couldn't picture her at Merlotte's. He thought maybe after a couple of drinks she'd enjoy herself there. She could talk to Sam about music and Sookie about horoscopes. If he thought about it, he could come up with something she had in common with each of his friends. He chuckled, shaking his head at himself for imagining a future with her, but these days all he had was a good imagination. Most likely he'd end up married to a friend of one of his cousins, but dreaming was always an option.

Her car was fixed by 1 p.m. and she was on the road to New Orleans by 1:30. She drove down the highway with the top down on her convertible, wondering if she would ever see him again, while he prayed that somehow she'd find her way back.

o00oo00oo00o

As the days went by, she found herself thinking about the soft-spoken man who had opened his home to her and listened to her ramble before offering kind words and a caring smile. He had paid more attention to her than anyone had in ages. She knew she shouldn't think about him or have feelings for him, but she found herself wondering what he was doing, and more and more, she wondered if he was right, that money would have nothing to do with her happiness.

Her friends had been shocked that she had spent the night with a stranger, although they joked that she'd always been a risk taker. She never told her father about being stranded in Bon Temps. There wasn't a chance in hell she was going to let him know that she'd practically driven her car into the ground after leaving his office. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he'd hurt her that much.

Her life returned to its normal rhythm. Work three days a week at the store, shop and lunch with her friends the other days and listen to them complain that she should just quit her job so they could go on vacation whenever they wanted to. A year ago she had been considering it, but lately, she enjoyed working and meeting new people at the store. She liked that people appreciated that she could answer questions about oil paints and pastels, and that the children that came in to make projects on Saturday knew her by name. She felt welcome at the store, and there were days that it felt like more of a home than anywhere else on Earth. That is, it did until she'd spent a night in Tray's home.

She'd tried to talk to her friend Ginger about it, but she didn't understand. Ginger was looking for a rich man and could easily ignore everyone that didn't earn enough to please her. She had asked Amelia about Tray's family.

"Does he come from money? I don't recognize that name."

"I don't really know. I didn't get that impression."

"But he owns his own business? I'd like to say that's impressive, but I'm just not sure. Do you know if he has franchises?"

She'd wanted to laugh. "No. I'm sure he doesn't."

"Well, that's no good."

And from that moment, Ginger selectively never heard another word her friend said about the mechanic or the night she had spent with him. She wondered if there was a different friend that would have been better to talk to, but really, it was so far out of their world to think about interacting with someone that didn't know their family or come from old money. It was one thing she had loved about going to college; she'd been able to interact with so many different people. She wondered now why she hadn't done a better job keeping in touch with those friends when they'd all graduated, but the truth was, she'd kept in touch with her sorority sisters who'd grown up with the same attitudes and beliefs in cities all over the South. The people that she remembered as being different had been merely acquaintances or girls she had worked with.

She had always been the girl who hadn't quite fit in. While her other trustfund friends were spending money hand over fist, she was quietly enjoying her travels, and although they had been expensive trips mostly with friends, they had never been about the money to her but about the experiences. She had honestly never cared much about the money her family had. Sure, it allowed her to do things and go places that she otherwise wouldn't have been able to, but she never felt the _need_ for it.

During college, when her father told her she was a fool to get an liberal arts degree and kicked her out for a semester, she had lived in a cramped apartment with a friend, eating Oodles of Noodles and drinking Oolong tea from the grocery downstairs because they couldn't afford anything else. She'd been exhausted and angry with her father, but she loved the experiences she had and wouldn't trade them for the world.

Over the years, she'd never really thought about whether or not she was happy, she just was. But the night in Bon Temps had her assessing things from a whole new perspective, and she was surprised to realize that the months that she lived in that tiny apartment over a Chinese grocery store had been one of the happiest times in her life. She wondered if she would ever have the courage to walk away from everything she had and risk losing her father altogether or if she would settle for something just to make him happy.

One evening over dinner, her father apologized for the Compton disaster. She wasn't entirely sure he was sorry or if he was just trying to smooth the waters with her. He wanted her to come to a cocktail party for a politician he was backing and although she really didn't care, he'd offered to buy her a dress for the event and pay for a spa day to get her hair and nails done. She should have recognized the signs, but when they say love is blind, it applies to familial love just as much as it does romantic love.

Her lovely day at the spa and the gorgeous gold sequined dress meant nothing when it turned out her father had intended for her to be the date of the candidate, Steve Newlin.

"Amelia," his voice dripped charm, and not in a good way. "I'm so pleased to meet you." His eyes raked over her body, and she wondered if he believed that she was an actual donation to his campaign.

"Charmed," she managed to mutter, her eyes searching for her father as the bar area of the country club began to fill.

"There are a few people I'd love to introduce you to this evening."

She tilted her head in confusion. "Why? You don't even know me."

"Oh, well, now that's easily rectified. Nothing that a couple cocktails and slow dances won't fix."

She raised an eyebrow at him, knowing that the reaction that was boiling in her blood was entirely inappropriate. She took a deep steadying breath and found herself stifling a laugh. A thought had struck her; if Tray Dawson had said that to her she would have told him to bring her a Jack and Coke and they'd talk. She laughed because she shouldn't be thinking about him, and she certainly shouldn't be thinking about slow dancing with him, but her body warmed at the thought.

As the night dragged on, she kept her drinking to a minimum, avoiding the embarrassment that she could cause both Newlin and herself if she told him what a slimy bastard he and his wandering hands were. When she could take no more, she interrupted him as he spoke to her father.

"I believe I've put in my time, gentlemen. Goodnight."

"Sugar-" her father started.

"Don't," she said sharply.

Steve Newlin looked between them, and he appeared to have a revelation. "You didn't ask to meet me?"

She looked at him, suddenly realizing he'd been lied to as well. She closed her eyes for just a second and then smiled sadly at him. "No, sir. I did not. Best of luck in your election."

She shot her father a hateful look and walked out of the club. She stood, waiting for her car at the valet station, replaying the evening. No matter how she looked at it, Steve Newlin was a cheesy politician, but she wondered how many of the flirtatious things he'd said and how much of his wandering hands were because her father had told him she was interested. She shook her head. Nothing in her life was ever as it seemed.

A month later, she still hadn't stopped thinking about Tray. She caught herself wondering what he was doing, and she'd even found herself wondering what he would say about ridiculous things her friends said or did. On a rainy Saturday night, she gave in and drove back to Bon Temps to see if Tray was really the man she remembered or if she had built him up in her mind. She knocked on his door, hoping that he was home, and that he wouldn't tell her to drive back to New Orleans.

He opened the door wearing jeans and a Harley Davidson T-shirt, and he looked even better than she remembered. He was tall and broad, and in that moment, she could imagine herself lost in his arms.

"Miss Broadway, what a surprise."

"It's Amelia." She smiled. "Can I come in? I brought alcohol."

"By all means." He opened the door and stood aside, chuckling to himself at her forwardness. Not only had she shown up unannounced, but she'd brought an overnight bag.

She shook out her umbrella and went into the house, smiling to herself.

"Engaged to an oil baron yet?"

"Nope, so I thought I'd spend some time with someone familiar with oil to get me by."

"Funny."

It became a pattern. Every few weeks, she would arrive without notice and they would drink her liquor and talk, sometimes even play cards, but mostly just spend time together. She enjoyed visiting him but wondered if there could ever be more than a friendship, and if he even thought of her that way at all.

His life was simple. He worked, took care of his house, spent time with a few close friends and helped his family when he could. He had more cousins in the area than should be possible, and a few of them were single moms who sent him home with casseroles for his freezer when he did odd jobs for them, especially Maria-Star and Crystal, who had claimed him as a brother when his parents died.

He loved owning his own business. He set his own hours, worked harder than anyone he knew and did what he wanted with the profits. No one told him how to run his shop, and no one second guessed his decisions. He loved that he could close the shop early on Saturdays in the fall to watch Louisiana State University football games. The whole town knew that it had better be an emergency to call him while the Tigers were on, and hell, if they were playing Alabama, everyone knew that he would be at Merlotte's cheering on his team and berating Nick Saban. He hated the 'Bama coach for abandoning LSU to coach in the NFL, only to return two years later to the SEC and coach their rivals.

His best friends, Jason and Hoyt, shared his love of all things football and LSU. They were both eternal bachelors; Hoyt because he was shy and didn't get out much, and Jace because he was pretty much a slut. His reputation preceded him, and even if he wanted to settle down, he'd have a hard time convincing anyone of it.

The weekends that Tray spent alone after having spent them with Amelia felt like an eternity. He found himself wanting to tell her things and buying food she liked just to have around the house; like her Barqs rootbeer, the green Tabasco instead of the red that he liked, Zapp's Cajun Crawtator potato chips, Dixie beer, and Community Coffee. He couldn't seem to get her out of his head. The conversations about all of her ridiculous dates reminded him of just how long it had been since he'd been out with a woman he wasn't related to or wasn't Jason's sister, Sookie.

He'd thought about talking to Hoyt about whatever it was going on between him and Amelia. He knew Hoyt wouldn't laugh in his face and would likely come up with something insightful to say, but he really didn't have enough relationship experience to be helpful. After much internal debate, he decided not to say a word to Jason or Hoyt until he understood things better.

One afternoon while at Sunday lunch however, he broke down and told Crystal the whole story, knowing full well she'd in turn tell Maria-Star later. He told her about his taking the call to tow the broken-down Miata, how she ended up spending the night at his place and then coming back two months later, and the surprise visits that followed. She'd smiled and asked him what he thought it meant. Which made him laugh and say that he wouldn't have asked if he knew what it meant.

"I didn't ask if you _knew_ what it meant. I asked what you _thought_ it meant," she laughed at him.

"I don't know. I think it means she likes me. Or she likes spending time with me."

She nodded. "You're probably right."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What else?"

She shook her head. "I can't tell you that. Only she can."

He muttered something under his breath and went outside to join the men in a game of horseshoes.

Amelia's visits to Bon Temps every couple of weeks continued. She confused and enchanted him, but he couldn't bring himself to ask her what was going on. He was afraid that she might stop coming or that she'd ask questions about his feelings that he couldn't answer.

They were sitting on the couch in the living room, a bowl of popcorn between them, glasses of Jack and coke in hand and Comedy Central on TV when finally, after six months of emotional square dancing where they'd get close and then back away, only to come together again and then repeat the process, she asked him, "Are you attracted to me?"

He laughed, hesitating to tell her how he felt because he had been lonely before he met her, and she had been a bright spot in a number of dark days, and there wasn't a chance in hell he was telling her something that corny.

Before he could say anything, she continued, "I've been coming to stay here for months and you haven't even tried to kiss me. Are you a total gentleman, or are you not interested in me at all?"

"No one has ever mistaken me for a gentleman, Amelia, but yes, I am interested."

"Oh. Um. Okay."

"Amelia," he sighed. "You've been coming to stay with me for months, yet you haven't tried to kiss me or anything else, either."

She bit her lip. "Yeah. But I wanted to."

"So did I." He smirked. "Why didn't you?"

She looked back at him for a second before whispering her answer. "I was scared."

"So am I," he said quietly.

He didn't say any more, just let his words soak in. He had wanted her since the first night she spent in his guest room, but she was untouchable, a beautiful thing to look at, but something he thought he could never have. He wouldn't be the one to make the first move. She would have to find the courage to do something or their relationship would not change. For the time being, he'd rather have her as he did than lose her altogether.

They sat close together, her head tilted upwards so that she could look him in the eye. She licked her lips. "Are you still lonely?"

"Not when you're here."

The corner of her mouth lifted into a smile. "I'm not lonely when I'm here, either."

He waited for her to move, to lean forward and kiss him or put her arms around his neck, but she didn't.

She bit her lip and stood, taking a step backwards. She knew that if anything happened between them it would change everything, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for that.

"Well, goodnight then," she said quietly, and it was not what he expected.

He nodded and watched her move a little farther away before turning and going down the hall and into the guest room. He sighed and shook his head. Then he smiled slowly, realizing that it was only a matter of time before they ended up in bed together. It was only a question of when.

The next time he saw her, almost a month had gone by and Hoyt Fortenberry was dropping him off after poker night. She was sitting on his front stoop, the moonlight glinting off her hair. She had her fancy purse and a bottle of Jack Daniels sitting beside her as she sat, her knees pulled to her chest.

"You got something to tell me about there, Dawson?" Hoyt teased.

Tray gave his friend a look that told him the woman on the porch was none of his business, but that she was definitely spoken for. His emotions were all over the place. He couldn't decide if he was pissed that she'd taken a whole month to come back or if he was thrilled to see her.

"Alright, alright. You can't blame me for being curious," Hoyt laughed as Tray climbed out of his truck.

"Goodnight, Hoyt."

"Yeah. Talk to you next week."

Hoyt backed up the car and drove off, clearing the space between them. Tray's eyes found hers before he walked in her direction, and he knew he was screwed because there was no doubt anymore. He was glad to see her.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

**A/N: **

So...you like Tray, don't you? You want him for your own...Red and E aren't giving him up without a fight. I'm just sayin'.

Thanks soooo much for reading. I was worried that no one would be interested in Amelia/Tray, so I'm thrilled that ya'll are here. Thanks again. I'd love to hear what you think.


	3. Revelations

**Opposites Attract**

**Chapter 3: Revelations**

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just like to put them under the microscope and make them squirm.**

**AN: **

So...It seems you all like Tray and are forming a line waiting for **A Redhead Thing **and **EtheHunter **to get tired of him...I gotta say that makes me all kind of happy.

As always, big thanks to the betas...they keep me on my toes and do things like make sure Tray actually removes his pants before sex.

Thanks for reading.

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She sat on Tray's front steps trying to clear her head, but all she could do was play over the events of the evening in her mind, again and again.

She had been working on a genealogy project in her father's office when he arrived home from a meeting.

"Why, hello, Sugar. Just the woman I need to see this evening."

"Hi, daddy." She sighed. She still wasn't entirely over the Steve Newlin debacle.

He made small talk for a few minutes, asking about her friends and her work at the art store, and then he began talking about himself and the business. It was not an unusual pattern for their conversations. She didn't even notice that he'd drifted to talking more about one of his board members, Felipe De Castro, than he was about himself. She just let him ramble, like she usually did, and let his words flow in one ear and out the other as she skimmed them for important cues.

As she filtered his monologue, she heard him say, "And that's a good place for ya'll to meet."

"I'm sorry, daddy. Do what?"

He pursed his lips and shook his head, knowing she'd only been giving him half of her attention. "Dinner, at the club next week. I want you to join me."

She instinctively knew he was leaving something out. "With who else, daddy?"

"Now, if you'd been listening, you'd know. I should just make you come on down and find out since you were so disrespectful."

"And if you don't tell me, I won't join ya'll period." She felt childish, but she was tired of his games.

He clucked his tongue at her. "De Castro. Who have I been talking about for the last quarter of an hour?"

She ignored the last jibe. Not only was Felipe De Castro was on her father's board of directors, he was also the Commissioner of the Louisiana Office of Alcohol and Tobacco Control. And he was more than a few years older than her father. "Why would I want to have dinner with you and De Castro? Does he have a son you want to mate me with?"

"Watch your mouth, child. No, I want you to meet him."

She almost thought he said mate but realized her mistake before she flew off the handle. "Daddy, I don't need a job. I'm sure your friend can hire his own people. Please don't force me on him."

He chuckled. "Oh, I'm not forcing you on him. He very much wants to meet you. Said he'd be interested in spending some time with you. He'd be quite generous with his affections and his pocketbook, I do believe."

She blanched, suddenly realizing where all of this was heading. "I believe Felipe DeCastro is married, and to a former Miss Louisiana, if I'm not mistaken."

"And what's your point?"

"I don't date married men! Especially not married men thirty years older than me!"

"You don't date any men," her father shot back. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a lesbian."

She stared at him in shock, a feeling of complete and utter frustration filling her veins. "Fuck you."

She turned and walked out of her father's office in a blind rage. He had sunk to a new low offering her up as De Castro's mistress. She couldn't begin to explain to him how fucked up that was if he didn't understand it himself. If he wasn't her flesh and blood, she might have hated him.

After she stopped at the liquor store in Monroe to buy their customary Jack Daniel's, she realized what she was doing, and where she was headed. She was glad she had bought the liquor because after realizing that Tray was the only one who could make her happy after her father's latest slight, she needed it. Add to that the fact that she'd been fighting the urge to drive back to Bon Temps since she left a month ago, and maybe she should have bought two bottles.

But the house had been dark when she pulled her car around behind his shop, so there she sat. Waiting. She took a couple of pulls of Jack straight from the bottle and wondered where he could be. She wasn't jealous or upset, just genuinely curious, and thinking about his whereabouts would take her mind off of deeper thoughts that she didn't want to continue to think about.

Her head came up at the sound of the car in the drive, and then suddenly he was stepping out on the passenger side of a large old Ford pick-up. Their eyes met, and he slowly came towards her.

"Hi," she said softly when he got closer.

"Hi. Been waiting long?"

She shrugged.

He stood in front of her, looking down. "I was at a poker game. I didn't know you were coming."

She gave him a wry smile. "That's part of the fun, right?"

He laughed. "Yeah. I'm just sorry you had to sit outside and wait. Next time, the key's on the window sill right there under the plant." He angled his head towards the kitchen window.

"Thanks. But I didn't mind waiting. It's a beautiful night." She still hadn't stood up but continued looking up at him with a sad smile that didn't reach her eyes.

He ran his eyes over her, trying to figure out how the night was different from any other. Why she had chosen this night to come back.

"I see you broke into the bottle already." He ducked his head towards the alcohol. "You okay?"

He thought he saw tears in her eyes, but she blinked quickly, and whatever he had seen was gone.

She sighed. "I'm just tired."

He nodded and reached down to take her hand, knowing there was more to it than she was telling him. She handed him the bottle and grabbed her purse before letting him pull her up. Tucking the bottle under his arm, he unlocked the door and let them in. She held onto his hand, leading him inside, then gently through the living room and down the hall, finally letting go when they stood in his room at the foot of the bed.

He wanted to say something. To understand what was going on inside her head, but he kept quiet, content to have the moment even if he wasn't sure what it meant. She held his gaze for a second to judge his reaction, and though his heart had begun to pound, he stayed calm on the outside, afraid of spooking her.

When she recognized the acceptance in his eyes, she turned and set her purse on a chair, making her intent to stay clear if it hadn't been before. Gracefully she took off her shoes and socks, then her jeans and finally her bra, sliding it out through the armholes of her shirt. She put her folded clothes underneath her purse and in just underwear and a t-shirt, she turned to face him again with a shy smile.

"Which side?"

"That side is fine," he managed, his voice rough with an emotion he couldn't name.

He watched her, unsure of her plans, as she climbed under the covers. Putting the Jack on the dresser, he sat down on the other side of the bed. Then he took his boots and socks off before he stood again, unbuttoning his flannel shirt and taking off his jeans and tank top. He put his wallet in a dresser drawer and his clothes in the laundry basket before pulling the sheets aside and sitting back down on the edge of the bed.

She had watched him, the way his muscles flexed and strained as he took his clothes off, and was still admiring his body as he sat next to her in nothing but his boxer shorts.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked quietly, looking down at her.

"I'm fine. I just needed to be close to you."

He had no idea what to say to that, so he remained quiet. Sliding into bed next to her, he exhaled, thinking it was not at all the way he envisioned them sharing a bed together the first time. He wondered if something had happened to upset her or if she'd just run out of excuses for not wanting to be with him. Then he felt her roll over towards him, and he froze at the touch of her hand on his chest as she curled against him, tucking her head into his shoulder.

There was a tightening in his chest a few seconds later when he felt her body start to shake. Hot tears dripped onto his skin as her sobs broke the silence.

"Shhhhh." He pulled her into his arms and began rubbing her back. Clearly something had happened and it probably involved her asshole father. He could only be thankful that she'd chosen to come to him.

"Please don't ask," she managed to say when she'd calmed a little. "Just hold me. I'll tell you tomorrow. I promise."

"It's okay." He held her tight and tucked her head under his chin, rubbing her back until he felt her relax in his arms and fall asleep much later.

She woke as the sun rose and was surprised to realize she was still curled around him. Afraid to open her eyes and realize she was dreaming, she stayed still and listened to his breathing, feeling the warmth of his skin through her cotton shirt. After a few minutes, she couldn't resist getting a look at him and opened her eyes. She was surprised again to see that he was already awake and looking back at her.

"Good morning." His voice was scratchy from sleep.

"Hi. What are you doing here? You're usually hard at work by now."

He chuckled. "You haven't been in my bed before."

She smiled back at him. "Yeah. And now you're in trouble because I'm not going back to the spare room."

He smiled and reached forward to touch her cheek. "Amelia. What's going on? Where have you been? I wasn't even sure if you were coming back."

She closed her eyes as if it would make the questions go away, but when she opened them he was still waiting for an answer. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she felt tears fill her eyes.

"I was afraid if I came back, I'd never leave, and I'm just not ready to think about that."

He tried hard not to let on that he'd thought about her staying as well. That when Hoyt's momma had tried to set him up on a blind date with a girl from church it had been the image of Amelia in his mind that made him say no.

"That is a lot to think about." He nodded thoughtfully and the corner of his mouth raised in a sweet smile. "What happened to make you come back up here?"

She rolled over and sat up on her elbows with a sigh. "I don't know. I just drove here without even thinking about it. Last night, I was at my father's office and," she paused and shook her head, "he encouraged me to become one of his board member's newest mistresses, and I lost it."

"Shit," he said under his breath.

"Yeah," she chuckled. "He didn't know or didn't care how much it hurt me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. He's the reason I drove off in a huff the first time we met, too."

"So, now you're glad you met me?"

She laughed. "Yeah, I never thought I'd say it, but I am. Your grease monkey style is growing on me."

He smiled, but then looked serious. "I'm glad to have met you, too."

She bit her lip and leaned forward, hoping that she was reading him correctly, and touched her lips to his. It wasn't electric or tingly like you read in romance novels, it was warm and soft, and it curled around her, reassuring her that she was exactly where she should be.

His arms came around her, sliding over her back, gently pulling their bodies together as he returned her kiss. It was sweet and romantic, and he felt it all the way to his toes. They pulled apart to catch their breath, smiling and looking into each others eyes.

"Wow," she giggled, then his lips were on hers again, but with more intensity.

She moaned as he deepened the kiss, and his hands slid down her back and over her ass. She had one leg wedged between his and could feel his arousal pressing against her stomach. They made out, kissing, touching, and panting until she rolled away to catch her breath. She sat up and pulled her shirt over her head and then slid her underwear off.

He watched, drinking in the sight of her, as she removed the remainder of her clothes. He wanted to reach out to touch her, to blanket her body with his and cover her with kisses, but he held back, asking her, "Are you sure?"

She nodded, reaching for the waist of his boxer shorts and helped him push them off. His hands skimmed over her body, taking in her smooth skin and subtle curves. He rolled them so she was beneath him and rocked his hips, drawing a moan from her as she arched against him. When she couldn't take it anymore, she aligned their bodies, gasping at the feel of his tip at her entrance. He entered her slowly, her body fitting tight around him as he filled her.

They made love slowly with the morning light streaming into the room, accentuating the planes of their bodies. They explored each other, learning what the other liked and worshipping each other. After several rounds, they were sweaty and hot, their skin sticking together as they lay in a heap with their bodies tangled together.

He lightly ran his fingers up and down along her side, wondering how long it would be before she ran again, but this time back towards New Orleans. She snuggled against his chest, breathing in his masculine scent and loving the warmth that radiated from his body. A buzzer rang, startling them both, and he reached over her, covering her body as he stretched across the bed to answer an old fashioned telephone.

"Dawson." He distractedly listened to the person on the other end of the phone as she leaned forward to kiss his chest. "It's no problem, Sam. I overslept. I'll be right up and get you the keys to a loaner."

He hung up the phone, but instead of moving off of her, he lowered his forehead to hers before kissing her slowly. "I have to go up to the shop. I don't have any help on Saturdays."

"Okay." She smiled at him, and when he pulled away from her, she felt cold almost instantly, missing his body heat.

He found a clean pair of boxers in a drawer and stepped into them, then pulled on the jeans he'd worn the night before. She watched him finish dressing, tying his boots and sliding his wallet into his back pocket.

"I got you a toothbrush, so you don't always have to use mine." He leaned down and kissed her forehead again, brushing aside a lock of hair as she grinned up at him. "Don't leave without saying goodbye, okay?"

He knew that it wasn't their normal routine. She usually left without a word while he was working, but he hoped that things had changed enough that it wasn't too much to ask. He watched her nod, and he stepped away, needing to leave before he didn't have the willpower to go. He was about to step into the hallway when she called his name.

"Tray?"

He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her.

"Would it be okay if I stayed the night again?"

"I'd like that, and you're welcome anytime, Amelia. You don't need to start asking now."

She grinned, nodding again. "Okay. Thanks. I'll probably run to Wal-Mart for a couple of things. Could I make you dinner?"

He laughed, wondering what the hell she could possibly cook. He started down the hall and called back at her, "I don't know, can you?"

She laughed, and he loved the sound of it in his home.

"I can, and I will, Dawson!" she yelled down the hall.

In the bathroom she found not only a toothbrush, but also a new red silk robe from Victoria's Secret with the tags on it still. She smiled, thinking of him picking it out, touched that he wanted her to be comfortable in his home, and she felt awful that she had made him worry that she wasn't coming back. She'd just needed to sort her shit out, and though she hadn't really succeeded at that, she'd found her way back to Bon Temps again anyway.

She went to the store and bought several changes of clothes and some toiletries along with supplies to make dinner. She wandered through the Wal-Mart amazed at all of the things you could buy in one place. She'd been in one before, once when her friends were getting party supplies in college, but this time she took her time, wandering the aisles, thinking again about the mysterious pull that this man seemed to have over her.

She put the groceries away when she got back to the house and settled in on the couch to call her boss. She told him she was taking a few days off. There was no reason to worry about being fired since her father had bought the store after she worked there a year. She did wonder if her boss would call her father, but she decided she really didn't care.

She relaxed in his living room, reading an old copy of Clancy's _A Clear and Present Danger _she found in his bedroom. She had pegged him for more of a movie guy, but he had a fair amount of action novels stacked around the house.

After a short nap and more afternoon reading, she cooked spaghetti with a simple meat sauce for dinner. She had just put some garlic bread in the oven when he came back from his shop.

Standing in the doorway he paused. The food smelled delicious, and he found himself smiling despite the strange hum he felt as he saw Amelia being so domestic in his home. A place he had never shared with anyone. He decided that if he acted like the site of her cooking and dancing in his kitchen was strange then it would be, so he walked into the room like she was there everyday and put his hands on her hips as she stirred a red sauce on the stove.

"It smells great. Do I have time for a shower?"

She reached back, covering one of his hands with hers. "You do. It should be about on the table when you're done."

"Did you find everything you need?"

"I did." She smiled.

"Alright, I'll be back in a few minutes." He squeezed her hips and kissed the top of her head before walking away. Intimacy had never been his thing, but there was something about this woman that both put him at ease and brought out every protective instinct that he had.

Four days later, after they had fallen into a pattern that was frighteningly easy and enjoyable, he woke in the morning to find her sitting cross legged in bed, still naked, watching him with tears sliding down her cheeks.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked quietly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

In the months that they had been doing whatever it was they were doing, she struggled to put a name on it, she'd thought long and hard about what made her happy. He'd planted that seed the first night they met, and she hadn't been able to shake the questions it provoked. The frightening conclusion that she'd come to was that she was happy with him, and it didn't matter where that was.

"I don't want to go back to New Orleans," she whispered.

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**A/N:**

Everybody feel better? There was ATN (that's my new abbreviation for Amelia/Tray Nookie) and now some feelings...How do you think Tray's gonna react to this? *eyebrow waggle*

Also, I planned to cut this off at where he woke up to find her crying and I felt like it was really misleading...I wanted it to be cliffie, but that was just mean. I couldn't do it to you.

Thanks so much for reading and if you feel like dropping me a line, I'd love to hear what you think.


	4. Changes

**Opposites Attract**

**Chapter 4: Changes**

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just like to put them under the microscope and make them squirm.**

**AN: **

Thanks so much to everyone who is reading and reviewing! I went last night to send out review replies, but FFnet wouldn't let me log in. *pout* So here's a great big thanks for all of you.

As always I must thank **A Redhead Thing** and **ETheHunter **for their beta skills. They really are the bomb-diggity.

Now, I'm sure you're anxiously awaiting Tray's response to Amelia's little declaration...So, I'll just step out of the way. Enjoy.

**-~-~-~-~-~OA~-~-~-~-~-**

He propped his head up on an elbow and looked into her eyes. "Then don't."

She cried harder, wiping at her eyes as fast as the tears fell. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

He tried to resist but felt the corner of his mouth lift in a smile anyway. "You can't predict these things, Amelia. There's no should or shouldn't."

"Listen to you, Mr. Magic 8 Ball," she snorted. "I was supposed to fall in love with a business man or a lawyer. I was supposed to live in New Orleans and be on charity committees and be in my father's Krewe for the Mardi Gras parade."

"Those are all supposed to's. I didn't hear you say what you want."

The words should have sounded strange coming from him, a large man with a muscled chest and work hardened hands with oil stained cuticles, but they didn't. They were a truth stripped bare, to which she knew the equally honest and enlightening answer.

She sighed and wiped her eyes again to look at him. "I want you."

He took one of her hands, kissing her palm before responding. "You've got me."

She closed her eyes and exhaled in frustration. "But what about everything else? We don't even know each other." The truth of wanting someone did not make being together easy or outweigh the fact that they hadn't spent any time outside of his small, but comfortable, home.

"We'll get to know each other." His voice was confident and reassuring. "You can do charity work here and walk in the Fourth of July parade. The locals will love it. They'll welcome you with open arms."

"What if my father disowns me or something crazy?" she whispered.

He was tired of looking up at her so he tugged at her hand and pulled her down to lie next to him. "I'm sure it will hurt if he does, but you'll be okay. You're strong, and I'll be right beside you."

"I could get a job."

"We don't need to worry about it until it happens, but really, you'd only have to get a job if you want to."

"Tray..." she said quietly but trailed off shaking her head. She was willing to pull her weight or to contribute at the very least. She'd been raised in a home where her father wouldn't allow her to pitch in or even consider it. Everything she'd learned about cooking and cleaning she'd learned from their housekeeper when her father wasn't around. Though she had never figured out where she fit in the world, she knew she was more than a pretty face.

"Really. Amelia, my house is paid for, and my business makes good money. I'm the only one for fifty miles that works on imports. I haven't had anything to spend money on in years so I've just been saving it. We would be fine."

Despite her fears, she started to get excited, and she sat up, leaning on her elbow so they were eye to eye. "You really want to try this?"

"I do."

She put her hands on each side of his face and kissed him, day-dreaming about the prospect of their lives together, and the chances that he'd say those two words to her again someday and that they would mean much, much more.

But it was only dreamy when they were together. The news had not set well with their friends and family.

When she went down to New Orleans to quit her job and empty her apartment, her father had been livid.

"Daddy, this isn't about you," she groaned, shaking her head.

"If you're just doing this because you're angry, young lady, you can stop. I'm not going to drive up to the swamp and drag you home."

"I don't want you to come get me!" she huffed, exasperated.

"Maybe I'll send Compton."

"Daddy!"

He slammed closed the ledger he'd been going over. "Well, then, just go. If you're so hell bent on moving in with a mechanic, just go."

She sighed. "I'll be home for your birthday."

He gave her a cold look but didn't say a word.

"I love you, daddy."

Still, he didn't say anything. She turned and walked out before he could see the emotion in her eyes.

Her friends hadn't taken the news much better. Ginger had looked down her nose, shaking her head, before answering her iPhone. When she finished the call, she gave Amelia a pursed look and launched into a lecture about how this _grease jockey_ could never be what she needed.

"How do you know what I need?" Amelia was frustrated. "He's a great guy. He makes me happy."

Ginger looked around, as if embarrassed to be having their conversation where someone might hear. "Happy is underrated if you live in squalor."

"Excuse me?"

"Amelia, be realistic. Happiness doesn't pay your bills."

"No, it doesn't. Hard work does, which Tray does. Which I can do, for that matter."

"Oh really, you're getting a job?" Ginger snorted.

"I've been working at the store for years."

"Your daddy bought the store. No one there would fire you." She shook her head. "You know what? Move in with your redneck. You'll be back."

Amelia stood there, in the lobby of the country club, watching her friend take her keys from the valet and climb into her gigantic SUV. She was shocked at how similarly Ginger and her father had reacted. Shaking her head, she wondered how much of Ginger's reaction was truthful, or if her friend was jealous, and possibly even sad to see her go. With a sigh, she knew that only time would tell.

On her way home from her disastrous dinner with her friend, she stopped at her father's office. She planned on spending another couple of days in the city and wanted to tell him that she'd moved some of her furniture into his attic for storage, but he was nowhere to be found. What she did find was a printed itinerary for a last minute trip to the Bahamas.

When Tray told his cousins, Maria-Star and Crystal, that Amelia was moving in they were thrilled but hesitant. At first they wondered if she was going to try to convince him to move to the city with her or if she was going to be a conceited bitch who thought they were all dumb rednecks. Crystal asked Tray if Amelia wanted children, and if she was prepared to raise them in Bon Temps.

It all came back to them being worried that she would steal their cousin and take him to the city, but he knew that they were really afraid that they wouldn't get along with her; that the woman in his life would divide their family. He'd been slightly surprised by their reaction, but then he realized how much they thought of him as a brother. They wanted what was best for him, and they wanted to keep him close.

After learning of her father's vacation, Amelia loaded the car and headed for Bon Temps. Tray was out to dinner with Hoyt trying to mend fences when she called to say that she was on her way back. He was acting as the designated driver and letting his friend cut loose a little, if you considered Hoyt's four beers cutting loose, trying to prove that Amelia's presence in his life wasn't going to change things. He wasn't sure how effective it was, since she wasn't officially moved in, but Hoyt had seemed appreciative of the gesture.

He was confused but excited that she was already on the road, since he hadn't expected her for several days. "Wait, what? You got everything into your car? I would have driven down with the truck to help."

"I packed most of it away in storage. You've already got furniture and everything."

He glanced at Hoyt by the bar talking with a waitress. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine." She sighed. "I'll tell you about it when I get there."

"Your father is an asshole. You know that, right?"

She laughed. "Yeah. I do. I'll see you soon."

Hoyt was still talking with Arlene, who had been a waitress at Merlotte's for at least ten years. A basket of onion rings landed in the middle of the table, and Tray looked up to see their waitress smiling down at him. It was Sookie Stackhouse; he was friends with her brother, Jason, and had known her since she was knee high.

"Tray Dawson! I heard you had a girlfriend moving in!"

He smiled but felt a little uncomfortable under her curious gaze. She'd always been a little, _sensitive_ was what most locals called it, but sometimes Sookie just knew things, and it could be a little unsettling.

He slipped a finger in his collar and cleared his throat. "Yeah. She's on her way from New Orleans tonight."

"New Orleans? Oh, my! You found a city girl?"

He nodded, but she hadn't waited for a response before she continued chatting.

"I reckon she'll be wanting to meet some people here. You give her my number and tell her not to be a stranger. And, Tray, I don't think you're crazy at all, and I know crazy. Someday I'll find a man that I love like that; at least I hope I do."

She winked and walked away before he could process what she said and way before he found his voice to tell her that he wasn't in love. As the words fell out of his mouth in a whisper, they became more of a question than a statement. He sat, pondering that question, until Hoyt rejoined him at their table.

Tray sipped his beer and sat across from his friend, wondering if they were going to talk about what was bothering Hoyt or just hope that the night out was enough of a peace offering to return things to normal. His friend had never come right out and said that he disapproved of having Amelia move in, they both knew that was none of his business, but he'd said that he thought it was too soon.

"Hoyt." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "That night you saw her on my porch wasn't the first time she'd come to see me."

"I'm single, Dawson. I'm not stupid." He glared. "If she's been coming around for so long, why haven't I met her? Why hasn't anyone met her?"

He looked at his friend, who was so serious, with his eyebrow raised and his cheeks a little red, and then he felt the corner of his mouth lift, and they both started to laugh. When they calmed down Tray apologized for keeping her to himself but explained that neither he nor Amelia had been ready to share what had been developing.

Hoyt nodded, trying to understand. After a few minutes he shrugged and smiled. "Does she at least have a cute friend?"

Tray knew their friendship would be fine after that. An hour or so later, he dropped Hoyt off and made it back to the house to wait for her to arrive. When she pulled into the driveway, the headlights of her little sports car shining through his front windows, he went outside to meet her.

She stepped into his arms with a sigh, feeling better than she had since she'd driven away, and he kissed her welcome home. They didn't even think about unpacking her things again until morning.

Their first few days together were no different than the others they had shared. Quietly, and in isolation, they continued to learn each other's habits and quirks. She exhausted her repertoire in the kitchen in less than a week, and he found that he enjoyed teaching her new recipes.

It was mid-day about a week and a half after she'd moved in, when she heard the front door bang from the guest room where she was hanging some of her clothes.

"Did you forget something?" she laughed as she poked her head into the hallway to look towards the sound. At the same time she heard a woman's voice call out, "Pup? You home?"

Amelia froze when she saw a slender woman with curly dark hair coming into the house with a laundry basket full of what looked like Tupperware containers. The woman smiled when their eyes met.

"Oh! Hello! You must be Amelia." She put the basket down and came down the hall, engulfing her in a hug before she knew what was happening. "God, you're just as he described." She stepped back, keeping her hands on Amelia's shoulders. "Welcome to Bon Temps."

"Thank you." Amelia gave a small smile, unsure of who stood in front of her. She had no idea who would call Tray a nickname like Pup, nor who he would have told all about her. She summoned the best of her Southern manners and bowed her head almost imperceptibly. "You have me at a disadvantage. I'm afraid I don't know who you are."

"Oh, no! I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm Maria-Star, Tray's cousin. I just brought him a batch of food to throw in the freezer. Unless he doesn't need them anymore, then I'll just take them on home. My boys eat like pigs."

Relief flooded her. His cousin, one of the single mothers who had him do odd jobs for her, and it seemed, one who also took care of him.

She smiled. "I must admit, until I learn to cook a few more things, that we'll need your covered dishes."

"Would you like to learn?" Maria-Star's eyes lit up.

She nodded. "Would you teach me?"

"I'd love to! Why, between Tray and I, you'll learn the basics in no time." She turned and went back to the kitchen to put away the containers of food. "Tray can cook a few things. You know, the things a single man needs to get by. Rice-a-Roni, Hamburger Helper, tacos. I can teach you some of his favorites and some good covered dishes for the Fourth of July picnic or Sam's big Super Bowl party. Have you met Sam yet?"

Over sweet tea and some cookies she found in the pantry, Amelia made her first friend in Bon Temps. Maria-Star stayed until she needed to meet her boys when they got off the school bus, they had already made plans to cook dinner over the weekend.

Tray came in a while later from the shop. He had taken off his greasy coveralls, but he still had streaks of dirt on his face and forearms.

"Hey, baby." He'd taken to calling her that during their love making, and it had begun to drift outside of the bedroom. It made her smile, an intimate reminder of the connection they shared. He leaned down and kissed her gently. "Did Maria-Star come by today?"

"She did, Pup," she teased and raised an eyebrow, silently asking about the nickname. She knew it would be more interesting to hear the story from him than his cousin.

"Oh, no," he groaned.

She laughed. "Tell me why she calls you that."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Shower with me, and I will."

"Well, I suppose I could be talked into that." She grinned and reached for his hand.

He helped her up from the couch and led her to the bathroom, where he removed her clothes while the water warmed. She reached for the hem of his shirt, but he stepped back, pulling it off himself, telling tat her despite having worn coveralls his clothes were dirty.

She watched as he undressed, then followed him behind the curtain and under the spray. Without a word she lathered her hands before handing him the soap and began to wash his chest. He followed her lead, and they found themselves sliding their hands over each other's bodies, paying special attention to their most favorite parts and pausing to frequently kiss each other. She moaned as he washed her hair, standing behind her with his hard length nudging her lower back. After rinsing her hair, he kissed her hard, pressing her against the wall as his hands ran over her breasts and his knee nudged her feet apart.

He leaned forward, kissing her collar bone and sliding a hand between her legs, gently teasing her center. She arched forward at the feel of his tongue circling her nipple just as he slid his fingers inside her, then slowly began to ease them in and out. She bit her lip, loving the feel of his rough hands and the stubble on his cheek as it scraped against her skin. She reached forward and began to stroke him in time with his fingers, but he grabbed her hand after just a few seconds. He stopped what he was doing and moved both of her hands to hold them over her head before adjusting his stance and teasing her entrance with his erection.

She ached to use her hands and pull him inside her, but he held strong when she tried to move her arms and looked into her eyes as he pushed slowly into her. It wasn't the kind of shower sex she had been anticipating when he turned on the water. She'd thought it would be loud and fast, but it was slow and reverent, and breathtaking and earth shatteringly erotic, with the water beading on their skin and the low lighting casting shadows, while highlighting how different their bodies were.

He thrust into her slowly, at a pace that made her want more but still brought her to the edge. When she began to cry out, he kissed her and slid his hand downward, touching her just right. Her muscles clamped down around him, and her back arched as she pulled her mouth from his to call out his name. While her inner muscles were doing delicious things to his cock, he dropped her hands and grabbed her legs, lifting her up to wrap them around his waist as he began to move both faster and harder towards his release. She whispered dirty things in his ear, and he growled before driving into her a few last times, then holding himself tightly against her and throwing his head back as he emptied himself inside her.

They stood there, or rather he stood there holding her, while they caught their breath. He kissed her face sweetly, gently touching her eyelids and her nose with his lips without saying a word. It was all so new to her, the way she felt inside about this man that she shouldn't want. But she did. She wanted him and so much more.

She brought her hand to his cheek, and he closed his eyes, savoring the touch of her soft skin.

"Tray," she said his name quietly, and deep brown eyes met hers.

It was past time that she told him how she felt, but she was still afraid. She brought her other hand up and kissed him before leaning back to look at him again. She sighed and said those three little words that could save or break her heart.

"I love you."

**A/N:**

Oh man! She made another declaration at the end of the chapter! Isn't it crazy how that works? LOL I don't think any of you will be that worried about how Tray feels. He may be a man of few words, but he's pretty transparent when it comes to his feelings. :) Anyway, you'll find out how he reacts next week.

Thanks again for reading and you know I love it when you let me know what you think. :)


	5. Puppy Love

**Opposites Attract**

**Chapter 5: Puppy Love**

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I'm just having fun playing with a different pair for a while.**

**A/N:**

Wow, so you guys were pretty intrigued by Tray's nickname. I have a feeling that when you hear the story you're going to love him a little more. Just sayin'.

Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing. I'm still thrilled that any of you are willing to take this adventure to a non-Eric/Sookie fic with me.

Tail wags and warm puppy licks in thanks to **ARedheadThing **and **ETheHunter **for helping me make this presentable for you.

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

_They stood there, or rather he stood there holding her, while they caught their breath. He kissed her face sweetly, gently touching her eyelids and her nose with his lips without saying a word. It was all so new to her, the way she felt inside about this man that she shouldn't want. But she did. She wanted him and so much more._

_She brought her hand to his cheek, and he closed his eyes, savoring the touch of her soft skin._

_"Tray," she said his name quietly and deep brown eyes met hers._

_It was past time that she told him how she felt, but she was still afraid. She brought her other hand up and kissed him before leaning back to look at him again. She sighed and said those three little words that could save or break her heart._

_"I love you."_

"I know. I love you, too, baby." He grinned and kissed her hard just as the water turned ice cold.

He shifted and grabbed the handle on the faucet, turning the water off before wrapping her in a large towel. She felt him rubbing the soft cotton on her arms but was still processing what he said.

"You knew? When did you figure all of this out?"

He chuckled at the confusion on her face as he wrapped a towel around his own waist. "I figured all it out after the fact. I mean, I knew you loved me when I saw you cry before you went back to New Orleans. I just knew. I was afraid, but I knew. And I knew that we were doing the right thing, having you move up here."

She had snapped out of her haze and was wrapping her hair in a towel. "And you? How long have you known you loved me?"

He shook his head. Leave it to Amelia to be pissed because he had waited to tell her he loved her. "Come on."

Taking her hand, he pulled her into the bedroom and stretched out on the bed to have their conversation. She pulled the towel off her hair and leaned her head on her elbow, waiting for his answer.

He sighed. "It was something Sookie said the night you were driving back that made me realize it."

"Sookie? The waitress that's kind of special?"

"She's not special. She just knows stuff, but, yeah. She gave me her phone number to give to you, by the way. She's a nice girl. You should call her."

"Can we talk about that later?" She rolled her eyes.

"Sure." He kissed her forehead. "Anyway, Sookie told me we weren't crazy, and said that she hoped someday to find someone she loved as much as I loved you. When she walked away I tried to figure out what she'd seen to make her think that because even though I didn't know it until she said it, she was right. I love you. I have for months, since you showed up here and surprised me on poker night. You'd been gone for a month, and I was starting to think you weren't coming back, but when I saw you there on the front stairs when Hoyt brought me home...I knew I wanted to come home to you every night. I've just fallen deeper in love with you since then."

She wiped her eyes and sniffed. "I guess it took me a little longer to figure it out."

"Well, you know," he teased. "I'm not who you were supposed to fall for."

"Not at all, you big grease monkey." She giggled.

"You like it when I get you slippery." His tone changed from teasing and playful to playful and sexy as he pulled the towel away from her chest and slid his hand down her stomach.

She reached for his towel, then moved to straddle his waist, and they proceeded to have the rough and loud sex she'd anticipated earlier. When they finished, and she collapsed on his chest, he pulled her close, whispering he loved her in her ear. She didn't think she would ever tire of hearing it.

Much later, she was dressed in a t-shirt and he in boxer shorts, they ate dinner together, and she made him tell her about his nickname. He had tried to blow it off, saying it was just something his cousins made up, but she sensed there was a story behind it. He went to the refrigerator and opened another beer, then sighed and explained that they'd called him that since he was a kid.

It was a story that probably played itself out in households around the world, year after year. A young boy forgoing his own comfortable bed to snuggle with his puppy wherever the dog chose to sleep. For the entire summer when he was eight years old, Tray snuck out of his room each night to find his puppy, Smokey, a small grey fluffball that was a Shepherd mix. He dragged a blanket with him and slept where ever the dog was. The couch, the kitchen floor, the back porch. It didn't matter. His father found him and carried him back to bed every morning before he went to work. Maria-Star and Crystal had spent a lot of time at the house that summer while their mother worked night shifts at the hospital on Monroe so they knew all about his sleeping habits. It became a family joke that when anyone asked where the dog was, someone else would say which one? His cousins and a few other family members had called him Pup ever since.

She'd ended up sitting in his lap, laughing as he told the sweet story. They'd continued talking while they cleaned up the kitchen and settled in the living room. She told him how she'd never been allowed to have any kind of pet. No one had been allergic, her father had just detested the smells and messes that animals made, so it had been forbidden. He told her about some of his other cousins, and how growing up his parent's house had been a revolving door of family members. He was fifteen when they passed away however, and his aunts and cousins had accepted him willingly, but it had never quite been the same for him.

She told him that she only had two cousins that she knew of, but they lived in California and she'd never met them. He was astounded by that. How could a person never have met their cousins? Had she even met their parents, her aunt and uncle? Sadly, she told him, no. It had always been just her and her father.

He shook his head. The more he heard about Copely Carmichael, the more he disliked the man, and he'd yet to hear her utter a word about her mother. Though he knew it was impossible, it was as if she'd been dropped off on her father's doorstep by the stork.

The following week, Amelia began to venture into Bon Temps by herself, and she was a little overwhelmed by the attention from the locals who all knew who she was. She was rescued from a crowd of older women, including Hoyt's mother, in the Quik Shop, by none other than Sookie Stackhouse.

The women were gathered around her in the bread aisle asking her questions about her home in New Orleans and telling her stories about things Tray had done when he was younger. She was beginning to feel claustrophobic when a friendly faced blonde woman called her name.

"Amelia, there you are! We need to leave or we're going to be late." The woman grabbed her hand gently and pulled her out of the ring of fire. "Sorry, ladies."

She followed the woman outside, unsure of who she was, but thankful none the less. They stood by an old yellow Malibu and smiled at each other.

"Sometimes those old biddies are like a pack of dogs with a bone. They've brought most of the women in this town to tears before so you were doing well." The blonde held her hand out. "I'm Sookie. You want to come over and catch some sun while we get to know each other? I work at a bar so I mix a mean cocktail, and you look like you could use one."

She was a little overwhelmed by Sookie's enthusiasm and wondered briefly if she'd gone from the frying pan and into the fire, then Sookie laughed and tried to reassure her.

"Sorry, I know I can be a bit much. I just thought you could use a friend here."

She'd met Tray's cousins, and they were nice, but they were a few years older and both had kids at home. From what Tray had told her, Sookie was her age, single, fun, and a sweet girl. She sighed, then shrugged. "Why the hell not?"

"Exactly!" Sookie nodded, and her blonde ponytail bobbed up and down. "I'll follow you back to your place. Then you can grab a suit and either ride with me or follow me home. There are too many trees at your house for good sun bathing."

Half an hour later, after a quick stop at home for a bathing suit and another to Tray's shop to tell him where she was going, she followed Sookie into the driveway of a big ramshackle farmhouse. When they pulled around back to park, she realized the only pool on the property was the plastic kiddie pool leaning up against a shed. It was another of those little things that she hadn't considered would be different from what she knew.

Sookie grabbed the pool and quickly turned the hose on to fill it before they went inside and changed clothes. She enlisted Amelia to turn off the water and pull the two lounge chairs into the sun near the pool while she made drinks.

Amelia laid out a towel on one of the chairs, and Sookie met her with their cocktails poured in pint sized Mason jars. They settled in, and Amelia heard Sookie sigh loudly after taking a sip of her drink. Then her new friend turned to her with a grin.

"What do you want to know?"

"About you?" Amelia snorted, laughing.

"Well, sure, but really anything. Bon Temps, Tray...the part time job open at the library. Whatever."

The library job piqued her interest. "How part time?"

Sookie grinned. "Thought you might want to hear about that..."

They had talked for hours, almost non-stop, as they soaked in the sun. It had been odd, talking so much but not looking at each other, but they had been making sure that they tanned evenly. That was something Amelia understood and appreciated. As time went by and she closed her eyes, it hadn't been all that different than being at the pool in New Orleans. It had certainly been relaxing, and she'd learned all of the things that a girl needed to know about a new town and a single guy wouldn't think to tell her.

Sookie told her that she'd probably be better off going to Shreveport to find a hair stylist, warning her that none of the younger women in town went to the local salon. There was a store in Ruston that carried great unique pieces of clothing and jewelry that you couldn't find in the mall. Arlene, the waitress from Merlotte's, slept with anyone that was single, but she refused to sleep with married men or guys with girlfriends. Sookie's brother, Jason, was the male version of Arlene. No one in town missed the Fourth of July parade, unless they were lucky enough to go on vacation that weekend. Sam's annual Superbowl party was something Tray and his friends looked forward to every year. Tray's cousins threw a huge barbecue for Memorial Day every year which doubled as his birthday party. It had all been invaluable information, in a strange way, but she definitely felt a little more like Bon Temps was home as she learned more and more of its idiosyncrasies.

Tray arrived as they were putting the finishing touches on dinner, and she smiled as he gave her a quick kiss when he came through the door. Every day seemed to confirm that she'd done the right thing by moving to Bon Temps. She hadn't heard from her father, though according to the itinerary she'd seen he had returned from the Bahamas.

They were enjoying the meal when Sookie's brother and Hoyt wandered in, and she grabbed two more plates. It was, again, something totally foreign to Amelia, to just drop in on a meal at someone's home, and no one thought anything about it. Tray was going to die laughing when she told him about her culture shock experiences throughout the day. She'd raised an eyebrow at him when she left in the morning when he said Bon Temps was just like any other town. Maybe it was. Maybe that was the problem. She knew cities not towns. She glanced at Tray, politely listening to Sookie tell a story about a customer at the bar and couldn't help but smile. She could adjust. She'd just go to Shreveport for a day if she needed to. She was more than happy where she was.

And the happiness continued, though with a niggling feeling of unease, as she still heard nothing from her father. She planned to go to New Orleans for her fathers' birthday, but the housekeeper told her he was in Europe, so she mailed him a card instead. She'd also left him several voice mails saying that she was fine, but he never returned her calls. He'd simply transferred money into her account on the same schedule that he'd done in the past, but without making any contact what-so-ever.

She hadn't needed the money though, since Tray had not been lying about the money he had put away, and she'd been working part time at the library thanks to Sookie and Tray providing references for her. Her father's money sat in her savings account earning interest, reminding her of the disconnect from him each time she checked her balance.

For the most part, her job at the library consisted of customer service and shelving books. Her favorite part of the job however, was a project that Miss Grissom, the head librarian, had let her take over entirely after her first month working there. Miss Grissom had been so impressed with her first display that she gave her a list of topics and told her to go for it. It seemed like a mundane task, but she made elaborate displays about monthly reading groups and upcoming new releases or events. She found herself creating trees from crumpled paper and using window paints for visual displays almost weekly, and she loved it.

Spring turned into summer, and she realized that the clothes that she'd been able to pack into her Miata were not going to be appropriate for the weather. She'd also wished since she'd settled in Bon Temps that she had brought more of her casual clothing. She'd begun making plans to go by herself when Tray offered to drive her on a day when Terry Bellefleur could man the tow truck. She was thrilled that he wanted to make the trip with her; it was a long drive, and they began making plans. He had a young kid from Hotshot who was working on his mechanic's certifications that worked in the shop, but he needed Terry on call in case anyone needed a two.

Terry was sort of a jack of all trades kind of guy, a Gulf War vet who did odd jobs and tended bar at Merlotte's two nights a week to give Sam time off. From his time in the military he'd had the license he needed to drive the tow truck, and Tray paid to keep it renewed so Terry could give him a day off now and then. When Tray called he'd been thrilled to man the phones for a day and be on call if anyone needed a tow.

The following Wednesday they headed to New Orleans in Tray's Jeep to get more of her things from storage. He had joked about bringing a trailer, but she slapped his arm and called him an asshole. They'd both laughed and he got on the highway, driving them towards the city. She'd called Ginger, wanting to see her friend and introduce her to Tray, still hopeful that her friend would like him, but she was in Arizona at a spa. She at least pretended to be disappointed that she wouldn't get to see them while they were in town.

Amelia was torn as to whether or not she really wanted to run into her father or not. Tray told her not to stress out about it, but she did. He was an asshole father, but he was her asshole, and sadly, he was the only one she had.

She had wondered originally why Tray hadn't told her to just cut ties with her father when he upset her, but she'd grown to understand how strongly he cared for his own family. He would probably never admit it, but she could tell that the absence of his parents weighed heavily on him. And it was his carefully hidden sorrow that made her realize that her father would have to do much worse than simply be annoying for it to warrant removing him from her life.

They pulled into the drive of her father's house, and she had Tray pull up to the side door so it would be easier to load things into the car. She had left her father a message that they were coming, but as was his new norm, he hadn't responded. They entered through the side door, and she was pulled into the arms of a woman in the kitchen who squealed her name.

When they stopped hugging, Amelia introduced him to Octavia, the housekeeper that she'd known since she was a child. The older woman shook his hand and grinned, saying that he clearly made her girl happy, which both pleased and saddened him to hear. It was good to hear someone from her old life realize that they were good together, but it stung that it wasn't her father giving his approval, or disapproval, for that matter, and from the silence in the rest of the house, he wouldn't on this day either. When she asked, Octavia told Amelia that he'd told her that he had a meeting and left first thing that morning. Tray didn't believe it for a second.

Amelia seemed to have more clothes than was humanly possible. She had a huge walk-in closet filled with racks of clothing, organized by season and by color, she had explained. He waited while she made a couple of piles on the bed and put two tons of shoes in suitcases. She took him to the attic and dug through a couple of boxes looking for some art supplies she could use at work and a few things that had belonged to her grandmother.

When they had put the final boxes in the car, Octavia gave her a box of pralines and a can of ground coffee from Café du Monde even though Amelia insisted they could stop and get some on the way out of town. They hugged again, saying goodbye and speaking in hushed French for a moment, then Amelia took Tray's hand, and they climbed into the Jeep.

When they left her father's home, she expected him to head for the highway, but instead they turned towards the city. She raised an eyebrow and he shrugged.

"Just thought we'd enjoy the city while we were here."

She smiled. "Oh really?"

She didn't know if he'd planned it or if he sensed how frustrated she was that her father was ignoring her.

"Really."

He continued driving, easily navigating the congested New Orleans traffic, pulling the car in behind a house on an uptown side street.

"Where are we?" she asked as they climbed out of the car and he took her hand.

"My cousin Alcide's place. I didn't want to park in a city lot with all of your stuff. I texted him, and he said it was fine." He pulled on her hand and started down the driveway. "Come on, let's go to dinner."

She laughed, thinking it really was a great idea, and held his hand as they walked the few blocks to Napoleon Avenue, and then a few more blocks to a local favorite. She grinned.

"_You_ know Casamento's?"

"Baby, I'm from Bon Temps, not Mars." He laughed. "'Cide and I have been known to come here and put away quite a few oysters." He smiled and paused just a second. "And beers."

"I'm sure you have, seeing as it's walking distance from his place!"

It was still early for the dinner crowd, and they had a long drive ahead of them, so they settled into a table and ordered some oysters to start while they discussed what else they wanted. She thought about ordering a shrimp salad because it was the healthiest thing on the menu, aside from the raw oysters, but she couldn't resist the oyster loaf. He ordered the same, along with another dozen oysters on the half shell. Her stomach hurt just thinking about it.

When they'd ordered, they sat quietly, and he took her hand in his. He looked serious, and she felt her heart beat a little faster. He turned her hand over, running his fingers along her palm and then looked up at her, quite serious.

"Will you tell me about your mother?"

She looked at his hands for a minute, then met his eyes. "You just met the closest thing to a mother I've ever known."

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

**A/N:**

Damn. Amelia is good with the cliffies. *shakes head* Her father is still an ass, but the next chapter may illuminate you a little bit on why...though...yeah, he's still an ass.

Anyway - Casamento's is an awesome restaurant in New Orleans, for real. Oysters and beer. Yum. Now I need a trip down there. Casamento's http:/www(dot)casamentosrestaurant(dot)com

Thanks again for reading and as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapters :) See you next week!


	6. We Are Family

**Opposites Attract**

**Chapter 6: We Are Family**

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I'm just having fun playing with a different pair for a while.**

**A/N:**

Oh my god you guys - yesterday was so nuts. Sorry I didn't get a teaser out if you follow the tease thread. Long story involving a lightening strike (not kidding), a bag party at my house and rum runners. Enough said. I'll be back to teasing next week.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. It sounds like you were all happy with the explanation of Tray's nickname. *grin*

Okay - so, E and Red say that you might be sad when you hear about A&T's immediate families, but then you get to experience Fourth of July Dawson style, and that is always a good time!

As always, thanks to **ARedheadThing **and **ETheHunter **for taking the time to edit and comment on my horrendous grasp of the English language.

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

"_Will you tell me about your mother?"_

_She looked at his hands for a minute, then met his eyes. "You just met the closest thing to a mother I've ever had." _

00oo00oo00oo00

He nodded slowly, though he still didn't understand. She continued to look at him, her eyes seeming to search his for the answer, and it broke his heart.

"What happened to your mother?" he asked quietly. "I mean, you had one. Everyone has a mother. It's kind of hard for her to disappear..." he tapered off when he realized he was rambling.

One corner of her mouth lifted, and she laughed. "Yeah. She stuck around for the full nine months." Then she paused and became more serious, biting her lip. "She died right after I was born. She, um. She had what they call placental abruption. It's a fancy way to say that the lining of the placenta separated from her uterus, and she bled out while I was being born. She never got to hold me or anything."

"I'm so sorry, baby."

She shrugged, even though her eyes were sad.

"What about her family? Your grandparents."

"Daddy doesn't talk about them. Their last name is Broadway, like mine, and they're from up north. New York, maybe? That's all I know."

He looked down at their hands and then up at her. There really weren't words to express how he felt about all she had missed out on by not having a family. He hadn't said a word, but her next statement was as if she'd heard everything he thought.

"It's okay, really," she said quietly. "I never knew anything else."

It wasn't okay, not in his mind, and he had to force himself to consider that he didn't know the whole story.

He cleared his throat, and then asked, "So, Octavia always took care of you?"

"Mostly. I had nannies when I was a baby, but daddy hated having them in the house. The only people I remember taking care of me were Octavia and her daughter, Callisto. I think she was thirteen when I was born."

He shook his head sadly. "I just can't really get my head around it. You've never really had any family besides him?"

"No, not really." She smiled then and gave a little laugh. "I can't get my head around your family sometimes, so we're even."

He was still chuckling when their food came. They ate quietly, making small talk and discussing their plans for the next week. When they were finished, and over-full, they made an extended loop, walking a few extra blocks back to the car as the sun set. As they headed out of the city he suggested that she take a nap, but she shook her head.

"What?" he asked with a smile, unaware of what she had on her mind, only recognizing the serious look on her face when he glanced over at her.

"What happened to your parents? I don't even know when they died."

He pursed his lips and nodded as he kept his eyes on the road. She'd intentionally waited to ask him when he had something to focus on because she knew how much it hurt for him to think about them.

He didn't look at her as he spoke, "Drunk driver when I was fifteen. He, ah, swerved into their lane when they were on their way home from my football game over in Claiborne."

"Oh, Tray."

"Yeah." He sighed, finally glancing at her. "I was riding the bus back to the school, and we got detoured, you know? But we could see all of the lights from the police cars and ambulances. My folks should have been at the school already when we got back there, but they weren't, and I kind of knew. I just had a feeling. About forty-five minutes later my Uncle Calvin picked me up. He took me to the hospital. My, ah..." he paused and cleared his throat. "My dad died on impact, but my mom was in intensive care for a week before she died."

When he finished she wiped her eyes with her free hand; sometime during his story she had reached over the console to take his hand in hers.

"I'm so sorry," she sniffed.

He lifted their joined hands and kissed her knuckles. "It'll be fifteen years next fall, and then I'll have lived without them just as long as I had them."

"I know," she said quietly. "But I also know it still hurts."

"It does." He peeked over at her with a sad smile.

"What did you do?"

"I went to live with Uncle Calvin. Everyone else already had kids to take care of, but he was single, and he took me in. We were kind of a wreck for a while, but we made it work. He got married the summer after I graduated, so I moved out. I went to work, but eventually I realized I wanted my own place. I had money from the life insurance and the settlement from the crash, so I got an apartment and opened my own shop. I bought my house and moved the shop about six years ago."

She smiled sadly and shook her head. "You should be proud of yourself. I'm sure they would be proud of you, too."

He nodded, knowing she was probably right and sad that they would never meet her. His mother would have liked her no-nonsense attitude; that was for sure. "I'd like to think that they would have liked you. I mean, my cousins do." He laughed. "That's a good sign."

She smiled back at him. "Yeah, well I still need to meet your aunts and uncles."

"They'll love you."

She sighed. "Will they all be there next weekend?"

He nodded and felt himself relax, it wasn't that he hadn't wanted to tell her about his parents, but more that he didn't want her, or anyone, to feel sorry for him. He'd lost his parents, but he had a great extended family that raised him and loved him like their own child and brother. He was glad to change the subject. "Oh, yeah. They're looking forward to meeting you. The aunts want to look at your shoe collection, and the uncles want to hear you swear like a sailor."

She slapped his arm. "Shut up!"

He laughed. "No, really. They're excited to meet you. Did you decide what we're going to take? Don't forget, no mayonnaise; it'll be out on that buffet table too long."

"Yeah. I think I'm going to make that Asian slaw that Maria-Star gave me the recipe for. She said that would be good, and if you double the recipe it will feed an army."

"That's a good one. Everyone really likes it."

They drove on, the highway stretching before them, and he could feel her fingers going slack around his as she began to fall asleep. He rubbed the back of her hand, and she smiled softly.

Quietly, she said, "I'm glad you're my family."

"Me too, baby." But when he looked over, she was already asleep.

0oo0oo00oo00oo00

He spent the next week working long hours to get some cars finished so that a few of his customers could go out of town for the Fourth of July. On top of the regular work, he had done some last minute oil changes and tune ups as well as finishing some body work for old lady Bellefleur who had a tendency to back into things.

She spent the week getting ready for the big parade, taping candy to the bookmarks they were handing out and boxing books. She had to work at the libraries annual book sale, where they sold off outdated magazines and old or damaged books along with duplicate copies of things that were donated. The money went to purchase additional books or host family events at the library. She was thrilled to be a part of it, feeling like she had truly found a place where she belonged, somewhere that people believed in her and appreciated her help.

The parade itself was underwhelming to her, consisting of fire trucks from Bon Temps and the surrounding Parishes, both Parish police cars and one Louisiana State Trooper, the little league team, Varsity football players led by the cheerleaders in skimpy outfits, a marching band, and she used the term marching loosely, and a regiment of Civil War re-en-actors proudly carrying the Confederate flag.

While she worked the book sale, she saw Tray wandering around with his nephew, Cole, on his shoulders a few times. The boy looked like he was having the time of his life, and Tray's smile told her that he didn't mind in the slightest that he was babysitting while his cousin Crystal sat in the shade chatting with friends.

When the downtown district began to clear out, and it didn't take that long, he joined her in the front yard of the library to load up the left over books to be carried inside. When they were finished he took a minute to kiss Amelia in the stacks. Her library job hadn't helped decrease any of his dirty teacher or librarian fantasies, especially when she said things like the smell of books turned her on. It didn't turn him on, but she did. He heard Miss Grissom moving around in the front of the library and knew they should be leaving. He sighed, kissed her forehead, and stepped back.

"Miss Grissom, we're going to head on out," he called as they made their way to the back door.

"Ya'll have a great Fourth!" she called back. "And Miss Broadway...They're going to love you like their own, you hear?"

"Thanks, Tanya. I'll tell you all about it on Tuesday."

"Alright! Bye ya'll!"

They walked out to his pick-up in the back parking lot, and before he opened her door, he boxed her in, framing her with his arms on each side. "She's right, you know? They're going to love you."

She bit her lip. "I hope so."

"Hey," he said quietly, putting his finger under her chin and lifting it until she looked at him. "I know you don't need family, but they're going to make you theirs anyway."

She smiled and gave a little nod.

"So just let them fawn over you. It's what they do."

They stopped at the house to pick up the coleslaw and a cooler of Cokes, beers and assorted liquors, and he threw the bag Amelia had packed for them behind the seat. She had brought everything he said they might need since she had no idea what to expect. She'd raised an eyebrow at the list but ended up filling a large Vera Bradley tote with a flashlight, bug spray, bathing suits and towels, long pants and sweatshirts, extra shorts and t-shirts and her camera. It seemed to her that just about anything could happen at a day long cook-out with Tray's extended family.

They pulled into the driveway of his uncle Calvin's home, following it back through the trees to where it opened up to a large clearing that contained the house, barn and behind them a pond. Cars were parked off to the side, lined up like an actual parking lot, and she glanced over at Tray.

"What? We do this a lot. If you don't park like that you're stuck here til the last drunk leaves."

She laughed. "Well, we wouldn't want _that _to happen."

"You have no idea, baby," he muttered before he stepped out of the truck and went to her side to open her door.

She hopped down, yes, since moving in with Tray, she could say that she 'hopped.' He'd helped her relax and let her hair down a bit. She reached behind the seat to grab the bag, and he told her to leave it til they needed it as he hefted the cooler from the truck bed. She closed the door and sighed, having hoped the bag could keep her hands busy. She was feeling nervous about meeting everyone but was glad that Crystal and Maria-Star had accepted her already. No matter what, she knew she had two allies.

The party was like none she had ever experienced. There were two groups of men in the yard, one group played horseshoes and the others were manning a giant grill that must have cost more than some of the cars in the side lot. The younger kids ran wild on the lawn while the teenagers and twenty-somethings were playing sand volleyball or swimming and sunning by the pond. The older women, ranging in age anywhere from thirty to seventy-five, she guessed, were sitting at picnic tables cleaning vegetables while they talked and laughed.

As they moved through the yard, she heard Maria-Star called out to them, "Tray! Amelia! You made it!"

Tray muttered under his breath something about not having missed it in years, and Amelia cringed at all of the attention his cousin had focused on them. The entire party seemed to be looking her over.

His cousin yelled out again, telling someone named Buck to take the cooler from Tray. A high school aged boy that had been walking behind them stepped up his pace and grabbed the cooler even though Tray tried to wave him off. But when his hands were free, he quickly reached over and took Amelia's hand, giving it a squeeze of reassurance.

"That's Selah's oldest," Tray told her quietly, nodding at the boy with their cooler.

A thin older man with short gray hair and a scraggly beard greeted them near the horse shoe pit, pulling Tray into a hug.

"Hey, Pup. Glad you're here." He patted Tray on the back roughly and stepped back. "You must be Amelia. I've heard a lot about you. I'm Uncle Calvin."

She wasn't sure what she had expected, but it wasn't for him to pull her into an embrace and lift her off the ground.

"Whoo!" he said loudly. "You're a skinny one! Tray's cooking sure won't fatten you up." He nudged his nephew and laughed. "You come on over, and Cherise will cook for you. Right, mon coeur?" he called over his shoulder to an over-permed woman in Bon Temps football t-shirt and short-shorts who was walking towards them.

"That's right. Ya'll come on over, and I'll fry us up something."

She heard Tray snort beside her at the word fry, and she elbowed him to shut him up. She was getting better about not eating like a rabbit, as he called it, but since the only gym in Bon Temps was the high school weight room, she was doing a Pilates DVD with Sookie a couple times a week and had taken to walking during her lunch breaks when it wasn't too warm.

Cherise came over and introduced herself and then she led Amelia towards the group of women who were trying not to be obvious about waiting to meet her. Tray and Calvin followed close behind but were quickly shooed away by the women and told to go do something useful.

She was overwhelmed by names and hugs and the chatter of twenty women wanting to say hello to her. She smiled rather blankly and let them all talk, knowing that she'd never remember their names. They asked her a few questions, some appropriate and some downright strange, but she was as gracious as she knew how to be and answered as best she could. After what felt like hours, but was surely less than ten minutes, she felt Tray's arms come around her from behind.

"Okay?"

"Mm hm," she replied as he gave her a light kiss just below her ear. She leaned against his chest, letting her body relax against him.

There was a chorus of quiet "Aw's," and she saw three or four of his aunts and cousins grinning at them. She turned around, snuggling her face against his chest, and he kissed the top of her head.

"Be nice," he teased the women.

They laughed and one spoke up, she thought it was Aunt Doris. "We don't mean to embarrass ya'll, but you two are so cute. We're just happy for you, Pup."

"Well, be happy without acting like you're in junior high school, okay?" He stepped back and gave her a smile. "I'm going to play horseshoes, you want to meet some of the uncles?"

She nodded and let him lead her towards the horseshoe pits. The first hour or so flew by, while she was introduced to what seemed like hundreds of relatives and close family friends. As the afternoon wore on, and everyone had more to drink, their voices got louder and the jokes a little raunchier. She'd hidden in the kitchen with Crystal and Selah a couple of times just to catch her breath and spent a little time down by the pond soaking in the sun.

When it was time for dinner, she stood in line with Tray, Calvin and Cherise. They were friendly, making her feel at home, telling stories about her boyfriend in his younger days. She hadn't recognized all of the food on the table, but had done her best to fill her plate like everyone else. She breathed a sigh of relief as Tray discreetly shook his head when his uncle tried to offer her a spoonful of something unrecognizable.

Her eyes got a little wide, and she silently thanked him when he declined the dish for her. "Uncle Calvin, she hasn't tried a lot of game meat yet. I'm breaking her in slowly."

His uncle chuckled loudly. "Yeah. You might want to ease her into some things. This here's just rabbit Veg-All casserole. Tastes like chicken, cher."

Amelia smiled, graciously she hoped. "Maybe next time. I had some turtle soup over at Maria-Star's a couple weeks ago."

Someone laughed from a few people behind them in line. "Mama said she did a shot of tequila before she ate it." It was Lucky, Maria-Star's oldest boy, and he was grinning.

Amelia was about to give him a scathing look and bit back the swear on the tip of her tongue, but the whole group around them laughed.

"Good for you!" Cherise patted her back.

Apparently they didn't care that she needed liquid courage to eat their strange foods. Maybe she should have done shots before they got in the buffet line. She looked down at the casserole that contained a cute little Bugs Bunny. Nope, she cringed. She wasn't ready for that. Tray laughed quietly, and she felt his hand on her back as if he knew what she'd been thinking.

They found room for the four of them to sit down, and the men went to grab drinks. She sat across from Cherise, who smiled at her, looking thoughtful.

"What?" Amelia laughed.

Cherise shook her head sadly. "Marnie really did a number on him. We weren't even sure he'd date after that." Then she smiled. "I don't know really how the two of you managed to find each other, but I'm glad you did."

"Thank you. I've really never been happier."

Cherise reached over and squeezed her hand. "Tray hasn't either."

Just then the men returned, and she pulled her hand away, winking at Amelia. They ate companionably, talking between bites and commenting on the food.

She began to feel like someone was watching her and tried to conspicuously look around, but she couldn't find anyone that seemed to be looking at her. She tried to focus more on her food and the people they were sitting with, but she couldn't shake it.

As she and Tray walked back to the table to get dessert she felt it again. She glanced around and her eyes met those of a dark haired woman in daisy-dukes and a dirty tank-top, who looked a little strung out. The woman's mouth curled, and if she'd been closer, Amelia imagined she would have heard the woman growl at her. Tray put brownies and some jello salads on their plates, and they started back to their seats. She glanced over her shoulder, and the woman was still glaring at them.

"Ugh. Tray, who's back there giving me the evil eye?"

"What?" he sounded surprised.

"Back there." She angled her head, and though she wanted to describe the woman as the trashy skank, she resisted. "Cranky looking woman with dark hair. Badly in need of a bra."

His eyes hardened as he realized who she was talking about. He groaned and shook his head. "Fucking Debbie Pelt."

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

**A/N:**

Now, now. Before you all come at me with pitchforks, you know who Debbie is connected to...Guess who makes his appearance next week? Yes. The hot carpenter. *sigh* Sorry. I got distracted by images of Tray and Alcide sweaty and shirtless.

Thanks again everyone for reading and reviewing. You guys keep me excited about cranking these stories out!


	7. Who Are You?

**Opposites Attract**

**Chapter 7: Who Are You? **

**Disclaimer: **These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I'm just having fun playing with a different pair for a while.

**A/N:**

I've been saying this for seven weeks now, but thanks so much for taking this journey with me. I'm so excited each week by your love of Tray and Amelia! So glad that ya'll love them as much as I do - and that I've managed to convert some of you to Tray fans!

As always, thanks to **ARedheadThing **and **ETheHunter **friendship and support. I just thought about this - the three of us span the U.S...ARedheadThing is on the East Coast, I'm pretty much in the middle of the country (East/West wise), and ETheHunter is on the West Coast. Kind of crazy and completely awesome that we could all connect in cyberspace and become good friends and do this fic thing together. Thanks for everything girls!

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

"_Ugh. Tray, who's back there giving me the evil eye?"_

"_What?" he sounded surprised._

"_Back there." She angled her head, and though she wanted to describe the woman as the trashy skank, she resisted. "Cranky looking woman with dark hair. Badly in need of a bra."_

_His eyes hardened as he realized who she was talking about. He groaned and shook his head. "Fucking Debbie Pelt." _

They sat down at the table with their desserts, and Amelia looked at Tray expectantly, waiting for more information.

Tray sighed and looked at his uncle. "Why is Debbie here?"

"What? Deb Pelt?" Uncle Calvin waved his hand. "You know I'm friends with her daddy. She must have come with him."

"You know what she did to Alcide," Tray quipped. "Now she's standing back there giving me and Amelia dirty looks."

"She thinks it's your fault," Cherise chimed in.

"How is it my fault?" Tray sounded irritated. "She cheated on him over and over. I'm just the one who told him."

Amelia listened, a little bit surprised. From the way Debbie had been looking at her, Amelia would have guessed that she was Tray's ex, not Alcide's. She hadn't met Alcide yet, but if Debbie was any indication of what he was like, she wasn't sure she wanted to meet him anymore. And she was suddenly not as excited that Tray had a cousin who lived in New Orleans for them to spend time with.

"Well, it's not your fault," Cherise laughed. "She thought Alcide was her meal ticket and got the rug pulled out from under her, so she's grasping at straws."

Tray looked over his shoulder, and Debbie was still standing there sipping a beer and giving him the evil eye. He turned towards Amelia, who was quietly eating some fresh fruit. He sighed in exasperation. "Shit. I'm going to talk to her."

Amelia gently grabbed his wrist and stilled him as he started to stand. She gave a small head shake. "Don't. That's what she wants."

"She's making you uncomfortable," he said quietly.

"I'll be more uncomfortable if she starts shit with you. If she was going to do something she would have already done it. She's waiting for you so she can say you started it."

"Smart girl," Uncle Calvin murmured and Cherise smiled.

Tray continued to look at her, almost in wonder. "I will tell her to leave if you want me to."

She tugged at his arm and smiled up at him. "I just said I didn't. Please, sit down and finish your dessert."

He sighed and did as she asked, though he rather wanted to tell Debbie to go to hell for his own peace of mind. "Where is Alcide, anyway?" he asked his uncle.

"His daddy had a big party over in Shreveport today. I'd say he's over there."

"Well maybe she should join him," Tray muttered.

Alcide's father, Jackson Herveaux, was married to Calvin and Tray's dad's sister, and he owned a construction company in Shreveport. He'd branched out about ten years ago to New Orleans and now Alcide managed his crews there. Growing up, Alcide and his mother had spent a lot of time during the summers with Tray's family in Bon Temps because Jackson worked from sun up to sun down seven days a week on his construction sites, "building the business" he said. As he got older, Tray never understood how his aunt had put up with it, but they were still happily married.

Amelia changed the subject, falling back on her southern charm and social graces as she tended to do in uncomfortable situations. They talked a while longer as Maria-Starr joined them, telling old stories and watching her boys in the yard playing with all of their cousins. A little while later she noticed that Debbie was gone, and Tray said he'd seen her drive off in her old Nova. She had to admit she felt relieved, glad that she wouldn't have to look over her shoulder the entire night. Although it was unlike any party she'd been to before, she was enjoying herself. Tray taught her the rules of horseshoes and tried to teach her to play, but it wasn't a pretty sight.

The sun began to set and they followed everyone down to the pond where they set up chairs and watched the kids twirl sparklers in the fading light. Someone had moved their car down by the water and turned on a classic rock station. Calvin and a couple of other men dragged a plastic tote to the edge of the dock where they prepared for the fireworks spectacular as Cherise called it. Tray called it old men with pyro-tendencies, and they all laughed as Calvin told Tray he'd be old enough to help the following year.

They put on a decent show, not nearly as elaborate as the one she was used to at the Country Club, but the squeals and oohs and aahs of the kids made it more exciting. When they were finished, the families with smaller children packed up and headed home while the others turned up the music and continued to drink. She stood beside Tray at the bonfire and sighed. His family had been fun and welcoming, and their idea of a party was much more relaxing than wearing four inch heels and a cocktail dress to stand around talking complete bullshit with people who didn't know her or care about anything except her father's money. Sure, she missed some of the fabulous food and her favorite dresses, but she knew she could find a way to wear them occasionally, and she was learning that some of the best foods were prepared where you least expected it.

She had tried not to, but she'd become increasingly depressed about the estrangement from her father, and being surrounded by Tray's family had really brought it home. It had been months since she'd seen or spoken to her father. Tray tried to reassure her that she'd done everything she could, he knew she missed him. He tried to explain how emotions made some men feel weak, and that he could only imagine what it would be like to have a daughter leave his home for another man's. She didn't think that was it. She'd always felt that, deep down where he pretended it didn't matter, her father blamed her for her mother's death. She wondered if he felt like he was finally rid of the constant reminder of what he'd lost.

Octavia had told Amelia once that her father had truly loved her mother, that he'd never been the same since she died. Amelia couldn't imagine her father in love with anyone. She couldn't even imagine him being loving. His love towards her had always been in the form of financial support and social standing. As a child, he'd made sure she attended the best schools and took dance at the best studio. She spent one summer in France and the next in Italy so that she could be immersed in their language and culture, but he didn't go with her.

As she compared their childhoods in her head, for the first time she could ever remember, she was embarrassed by her family, and that was something that one could hardly ever say about the Carmichaels. The Dawsons, and their extended relatives, were a family who made the best of what they were given. They learned to adjust to the shit that life threw at them and built things back up from the rubble. They had each others' backs in ways that she couldn't imagine.

The Carmichaels on the other hand, threw money at problems to make them go away and paid people to have their backs. Life with her father had been a cold existence that she hadn't recognized until she walked away. It was like suddenly finding out your life was a lie and she was having difficulty assimilating her past and present without devaluing her past, even if it had been stuffy and artificial.

The morning after the cookout and fireworks at Calvin's, Tray woke her up to tell her he was running over to the junk yard to pick up a part and would grab them breakfast. She contemplated waiting for him in bed, but eventually the smell of bonfire on her hair was too much and she pulled herself into the bathroom.

She was almost finished with her shower when she heard the bathroom door open. Smiling to herself, she waited for Tray to either tell her their food was getting cold or join her. What she hadn't expected was the sound of the toilet flushing, then scalding water pouring down on her and the shower curtain being ripped open as she heard a man's voice singing the chorus of Snoop Doggy Dog.

She screamed at the top of her lungs, which was matched by the strange man who yelled, "Holy shit! You're not Tray!"

"Neither are you!" she screeched back, trying to hide herself behind the shower curtain and turn off the water.

"Who the fuck are you?" they said at the same time.

There was a loud bang from the front of the house that she could only assume was the front door, then heavy footsteps moving towards them and Tray burst into the bathroom pushing the strange man up against the closet door, growling.

"Hey, Pup," the man tried to joke. "So, I think I just met your girlfriend."

Tray held the man against the door but spoke to Amelia, "Baby, are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just startled and a little scalded."

Tray growled again and shook his head but released the man, stepping back, flexing his fingers as if he was holding himself back from throwing a punch. Looking between the two men, she sensed some similarities, same height and build, the same dark hair, even their voices were the same deep timbre. Tray continued facing the stranger, and she wished she could see the look on his face.

"What the fuck, Alcide?" Tray's words surprised her, and then she started laughing.

"Alcide? Like, New Orleans Alcide?"

"The one and only," he said with a grin.

"Shut up, Alcide," Tray growled. "And get out of my bathroom so she can dress."

"What?" he laughed as Tray pushed him out of the room. "Your car was here. Who else would be in your shower?"

"His girlfriend, who lives here," she called after him, shaking her head.

Tray closed the door behind Alcide and turned towards her, running his hand through his hair. "You okay?"

"You already asked that." She stepped over to him and put her arms around his neck. "What's he doing here?"

"It's probably my fault. I texted him yesterday that Deb was at the party."

She smiled. "Get me some clothes?"

He opened the door and peeked into the bedroom. "He went to the kitchen."

"Don't let him eat my breakfast."

He laughed as they went into the bedroom. "No way. That asshole gets peanut butter and jelly."

He walked out to the kitchen and cuffed his cousin on the head as went past him to the counter. He poured himself some coffee and turned to face Alcide with a sigh. "What the fuck, man?"

Alcide gave him a guilty smile. "Dude. I thought it was you! I totally forgot she lived here. I came in the way I did when you were down at my house last year. You know..."

Tray closed his eyes. He did know. "The toilet and the singing?"

"Yeah," Alcide laughed. "Sorry. I mean, it's kind of funny now."

"Don't let her hear you say that. She'll kick your ass."

Alcide threw his head back, cracking up, but noticed that his cousin wasn't laughing. "Seriously?"

Tray nodded. "She's tough."

She joined them then, and Alcide wasn't sure if he should believe Tray or not. Grabbing a container of food Tray had picked up at the diner and a fork from the drawer, she sat at the table and shook her head at him again.

"So, you're Alcide?" Tray put a cup of coffee in front of her and brought his own food over.

"Yeah. You're Amelia?"

"I am. Your ex was giving us the evil eye last night. She's an interesting animal."

Tray laughed and Alcide snorted. "Interesting isn't a word I'd use for her."

"Bitch broke his heart," Tray said, though he'd told her most of the story the night before.

He'd told her how they had dated when Alcide still lived in Shreveport, and he'd thought that Debbie was after Alcide's money, but he tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. Then he'd seen her in Ruston one weekend at a bar when she'd told Alcide she was working. He'd made sure Debbie knew he'd seen her, but left it to her to tell Alcide, which she never did. A few months later, Hoyt had seen her in Bosier City with someone else. Then Terry saw her in Natchitoches in a biker bar, but Alcide continued to fall for her bullshit excuses. The final straw came when Tray saw her making out with a guy in the parking lot at Merlotte's. He confronted her over Sunday lunch in front of Alcide and the rest of the family, knowing that they wouldn't let Alcide be swayed by her crap. Obviously, she still hated him for it.

Alcide nodded at Tray's words. "She did. And now Tray's breaking mine eating all that food and not sharing with me."

"You're not a guest," Tray responded between bites. "Serve yourself. There's fixings for peanut butter and jelly."

Amelia resisted getting up and making him a sandwich, especially after Tray gave her a slight shake of his head warning her not to.

"Asshole," Alcide muttered as he pushed back from the table and went to make a sandwich.

They finished their food, Tray and Amelia enjoying biscuits and gravy and fresh fruit from the diner in town and Alcide bemoaning his PB&J.

Tray sipped his coffee. "So, what are you doing here?"

Alcide smiled sadly. "I just wanted to catch up. I should have come out here yesterday, although I'm not sure I would have been civil to Deb; my dad is still an asshole."

"You heading to Uncle Calvin's?"

"Yeah. Maybe fish for a bit. Ya'll want to grab dinner?"

"Sounds good." Tray didn't say any more, but he knew that the trip to their uncle's was more about spending time with a father figure than fishing.

"Amelia, tell me how you met this dog."

So they sipped coffee and chatted until Tray needed to head out to the shop and Alcide was ready head to Calvin's.

Dinner proved that her first impressions of Alcide had been correct, not the impression he left with scalding water and his ridiculous rap, but from the stories Tray told her when they parked at his place in New Orleans. He and Tray were like brothers, although they had drifted a bit apart since Alcide moved to New Orleans. He was well known at Merlotte's since he'd spent so many summers in Bon Temps. Jason and Hoyt begged him for stories about wild women and parties in the city while Sam talked to him about rumors about the Saints.

Alcide slept on their couch that night, after drinking too much and telling the whole bar Tray was a pussy-whipped bitch in heat. That was the point that Amelia grabbed his nuts and told him to get in the car because she was driving them home, which was also about .2 seconds before Tray would have punched him in the gut.

He woke in the morning with a hangover and apologized, mostly to Amelia, then headed back to New Orleans before he did anything else to piss her or Tray off. She shook her head as he left, not angry, but mystified by the relationships of men.

The summer flew by with trips to Calvin's pond and Sookie's 'pool,' evenings with friends at Merlotte's and the race track in Monroe. She had organized his office, computerized his billing system and introduced him to the luxury of high thread-count bed sheets. They also spent a few weekends taking road trips to historic Civil War sites from the Confederate Army's Red River campaign, like Pleasant Hill in Mansfield and Grand Ecore in Natchitoches. She would have never guessed that he was a Civil War buff, but he was. His knowledge of all things historic surprised and delighted her, and he enjoyed sharing it with her. He also seemed to know just when she'd heard enough, and he changed the subject or kissed her to break her train of thought.

Their relationship couldn't have been better. They had fought only a few times, mostly when they were tired, and the make-up sex always outweighed whatever they had argued about. She had limited herself to a monthly voice-mail to her father letting him know she was alright, each time inviting him to visit or call and tell her a good time to come down to the city, but he never responded.

They were driving home from a long day watching LSU play on the big screen at Merlotte's when Amelia's phone rang, issuing a basic ring-tone. She glanced at the number flashing on the screen, and it was exactly as Tray described it. She knew. Without any uncertainty.

"Octavia?" she said almost breathlessly, hoping that it was not in fact the housekeeper.

"Sweetie, I'm sorry to have to tell you..."

"Oh, god. What happened?"

Tray glanced at her, wondering if he should pull the car over, but if they needed to go to New Orleans, he might as well keep driving. He reached for her hand, and she squeezed tightly as she listened to the older woman speak.

Massive heart attack. Found on the floor of his office. Funeral arrangements. Meetings with his lawyer, Mr. Cataliades.

She couldn't get her head around it. He realized that she was staring ahead, not hearing a word being said through the phone, so he pulled over, gently taking the phone from her hand. Octavia repeated the details to him, and he told her they would stop by the house and be in New Orleans by morning. She made him promise to take care of Amelia, and he disconnected the call.

He gave her a sideways glance, and she was staring out the windshield with a distant look on her face. He wanted to speak, to tell her he loved her and he'd be there for her, but she wasn't in any condition to listen. Lifting their hands, he kissed the inside of her wrist. He moved to set their hands back down on his thigh, but she pulled them towards her instead, putting them in her lap and covering his hand with hers. She didn't make another move until they got home, and when she did, she walked straight into the house, directly to the bedroom and curled up on the bed crying softly.

He went to her side of the bed and took her shoes off, then gently pulled her dress pants off and slid her under the covers. Leaning down, he kissed her hair. "I'm so sorry, baby."

She reached for him and pulled him down to her. "I know. Please just hold me." She didn't want to talk. She really didn't want to think. She thought that getting really drunk might help her sleep, but she couldn't seem to make her body move, and she knew that that was a stupid idea anyway.

Kicking off his shoes, he climbed in behind her and wrapped her in his arms. Her soft tears became sobs, and he tightened his hold on her, whispering and rubbing her arms.

The last thing she thought before she fell asleep was that she was so glad she had found Tray because without him she would have been completely alone.

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

**A/N:**

Schwoo. Sorry, that chapter was kind of all over the place. I hope you loved meeting Alcide and that it balanced out the sad at the end. Her dad was an asshole, but he was the only family she had - or not. Keep reading to find out more! (Insert evil laugh here.)


	8. It's All Been Done

**Opposites Attract**

**Opposites 8: It's All Been Done**

**Disclaimer: **These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I'm just having fun playing with a different pair for a while.

**A/N:**

Wow. You were all kind of distressed that her father died without her getting any closure, or Tray getting to kick his ass. As I mentioned in a few review replies, I think you'll see that this way actually worked out better for Amelia in the long run - though it might take a chapter or two for you to see what I mean. Anyway...

As always, thanks to **ARedheadThing **and **ETheHunter. **These ladies are pretty amazing and I can't thank them enough for putting up with my insecurity and neurosis! (I think writing fanfiction brings out a little OCD in everyone. JS)

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

Amelia packed her bag, rather oblivious to the fact that Tray had already been up for a couple of hours. He had already packed and talked to Terry, Hoyt and his family. He had also called Octavia to update her on their plans. She told him to drive safe and thanked him for taking care of her girl. He was reminded again of how glad he was that this woman had been in Amelia's life.

A little while later, Amelia joined him in the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. Then she sat down to call the library and tell Miss Grissom that she needed some time off. The librarian was understanding and told her to take all the time she needed. Amelia thanked her and sighed, then pinched the bridge of her nose. She had no idea how long she was going to need.

She started to tell Tray about her plans for going to New Orleans when he stopped her.

"Baby," he sighed. "I'm coming with you."

"What?" She scrunched her face up. "No. You have things to do here. I'll call you when I know what's going on."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about things here. I'll drive you down."

"Tray." She sighed and set her coffee mug on the counter, a little harder than she intended, and the brown liquid sloshed over the edges. "I'll be fine, really. Come down for the services or whatever, but..." She shook her head, feeling a little overwhelmed. "You don't have to do this."

He folded the paper and stood, then crossed the kitchen to stand in front of her, effectively blocking her in. He spoke quietly, as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, "Hey, stop fighting this."

"What?"

"This." He moved his hand between them. "I'm in this for the long haul."

She wiped her cheeks before put her arms around his waist, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead on his shoulder. "I know that."

"You're stuck with my family, too. Don't be surprised if Alcide finds us within twenty-four hours of getting into town. Uncle Calvin and Cherise will probably come to the services. Crystal and Maria-Star, too, if they can get off work."

She raised her head and looked at him, confused. "Why would they do that?"

"You're important to me. That makes you part of the family. We don't have a lot of money, but we take care of our own." He put his arms around her and she laid her head back against him. "So, I'll drive you down there, and we'll figure everything out. Okay?"

She nodded. "Thank you. I don't..." she paused and swallowed back more tears. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He cocked his head towards the front door and asked, "Ready?"

She stepped back and wiped her eyes again, nodding, and they were on their way.

The drive to New Orleans was fairly quiet. He put on a classic rock station, and she fell asleep within thirty minutes of leaving Bon Temps. She made him let her drive for a while when she woke up, but then she pulled over twenty minutes later and said she couldn't concentrate.

When they finally arrived at her father's house, she still wasn't quite ready to go inside. They sat in the car in the driveway, not talking, just waiting. She stared out the window at the front door with an almost blank look on her face that broke his heart.

After a few minutes, she broke the silence, "He died in there."

Tray cursed himself silently for not thinking to get a hotel room and apologized.

She snorted. "It's not that, not really. He had his own wing. I'm just having a hard time thinking of good memories of us in there."

He bit his tongue, not wanting to speak ill of the dead, but he didn't imagine she had many good memories of her father at all. The man had been a piece of work.

She put her shoulders back and exhaled, then opened the car door and stepped out. He walked over and took her hand. When they'd taken a few steps towards the house when she spoke again, "I just always thought there was time. For him to meet you. For us to make-up."

"Amelia," he stopped walking and, since he was holding her hand, she stopped as well. "If he was that upset with you, the money would have stopped showing up in your account. I have no doubt that he loved you." He didn't tell her what he thought of her father for expressing his love that way.

She bit her lip, nodding. "I know you're right. I just wish he had actually _said_ it. You know, once when I was old enough to remember it."

He sighed, wanting to kill her recently deceased father, and took her face in his hands, kissing her slowly. Stepping back, he took her hand again. "He did love you. I love you, and I'm not going to stop telling you. Octavia loves you, and she's going to tell you the minute you walk through that door."

She nodded, and they went up the front steps into the imposing house.

He had been right, both Octavia and her daughter hugged Amelia as soon as she walked in the door. They murmured condolences and told her how much they loved and missed. Callisto had come over as soon as her mother called, and Amelia was grateful that someone had been there for her.

Both women looked like they hadn't slept in days, but the house still seemed to be running with military precision. There wasn't a speck of dust to be seen or a piece of furniture out of place. It looked exactly as Amelia remembered; which made her sad, because everything about the house had centered on her father, but he had it organized and coordinated to run perfectly in his absence. The house it seemed, didn't need him.

Octavia gave Tray a quick hug and introduced him to her daughter, and they all went into the kitchen where the three women had spent many afternoons together. Sitting at the small table, Octavia told the story again, this time more calmly and in more detail. Amelia seemed to take it all in, but Tray had a feeling that there was a lot of information that she just couldn't absorb at the time.

Her father's lawyer met them there a little while later, bringing with him some paperwork that had been prepared in case of Copely's passing. Octavia and her daughter discreetly left them with the attorney who explained how the business would run until the will was read. He told her that she would have decisions to make after that, but she had time. He had already contacted the mortuary, per her father's instructions, and was taking care of any and all details that he could. He reminded her that he had been paid to facilitate everything, then told them about the funeral services he had arranged. He finished his business by showing them the obituary that her father had approved when he reviewed his will the previous year. She was a little shocked at how meticulously her father had planned for his own death, but it wasn't like him to leave any details to chance.

Tray felt a bit like a leaf in a hurricane as well, surprised that things that he expected her to have to deal with had been handled already. He sighed, thinking that's what being rich got you, but on the other hand, he didn't think her father had organized things to make it easier on her, but rather because he didn't trust anyone else to do it.

Alcide showed up in the late afternoon saying he was sorry for her loss and offering to do whatever he could to help.

Tray shrugged and gave him an odd look. "It's all done, man."

"What?"

Amelia gave him a sad smile. "My father's final gift. He organized his own funeral."

"That's morbid," he said, curling his lip a little in disgust. Then he looked at Tray, "How much you want to bet my dad has his planned, too? Down to the last detail."

Tray chuckled. "He probably does."

"Ah, but did he already decide what you would read at his funeral?" Amelia attempted to joke.

Alcide looked at her, disbelief and sympathy on his face. "I"m gonna say probably not." He gave her half smile. "You know how weird that is. Right?"

She smiled, and Tray was glad that she got his cousin's humor. "It's so wrong. He's still an asshole with one foot in the grave."

"One foot?" Alcide raised an eyebrow.

"Well, he's dead, but he's not in the ground, so it's just one foot, right?"

Tray and his cousin laughed. "No," they said together, and the three of them burst out laughing loud enough that Octavia came to see what was so funny.

Amelia blushed, embarrassed, and managed to stutter something ridiculous about gallows humor. Octavia wasn't offended at all, in fact she grinned at them and asked what they wanted for dinner. The men tried to put her off, telling her that she didn't need to cook anything, but she shushed them, saying she'd feel better if she was busy. Tray told her to make one of Amelia's favorites, and both women looked thrilled.

"Jambalaya?" Amelia grinned.

"If you send these boys out for some fresh shrimp and fish it will be even better."

"You tell me what you want, and I'll get it. I know a good place," Alcide told the older woman with a grin.

"I'm sure you do, child," she teased, then she proceeded to tell him what she would need from the fish monger and gave him a list of fresh produce to get from the market.

The two men went to the store, leaving the women to catch up. Callisto joined them, and they sat drinking sweet tea and talking for a while. Eventually, Tray and Alcide returned with the groceries and Octavia shooed everyone out of the kitchen. Alcide was clearly staying for dinner, so they went to the less formal living room and relaxed. Amelia showed Tray how to turn on the widescreen television and surround sound, and she wandered to the wet bar while he found something to watch.

"Alcide?" she asked, unsure of what he liked, as she poured drinks for herself and Tray.

"Whatever ya'll are having is fine. Thanks."

She finished making the cocktails and went to sit with Tray on the large, buttery, soft brown leather sofa that Tray knew had to have cost a small fortune. Alcide sat in a matching side chair across from them, already distracted by ESPN. Tray put his arm around Amelia, and she snuggled into his side.

Before they were finished with their second round of cocktails, the doorbell rang announcing a visitor. Amelia sighed, and Tray asked if she wanted him to answer the door. She hesitated, knowing that she should do it herself, but she wasn't sure she wanted to face any of her father's friends. Finally, she nodded at Tray, and he lifted her up so he could stand and went to get the door. Octavia stepped out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel, but she stopped when she saw him headed for the foyer and gave him a smile.

He opened to door and looked down in surprise at the petite blonde looking back at him. He didn't think she'd been a friend of Copely's, but he could have been wrong.

"Hello. Can I help you?"

The woman smiled back, flashing him a set of teeth that were obviously enhanced. They were perfectly aligned, squared and white. "Well, I sure hope you can."

She gave him a hair flip that she thought would have some effect on him. He'd learned that from the movie _Legally Blonde_ and still didn't understand the idea behind it. He didn't give a shit if her hair hung in front of her shoulder or behind it.

"But first, I don't recognize you. Should I know you?" Her voice was sweet, too sweet.

"I should think not." He refrained from rolling his eyes at her since he had no idea who she was or why she'd come by. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, you could let me in," she snipped. "I've come to pay my respects. Don't you have any manners?"

The corner of his mouth lifted. It seemed to him that the gleaming teeth and Southern charm were a mask to cover up what a complete bitch she was. He exhaled, maintaining his own manners even though he had a few choice words he'd like to say to this woman. "Are you a friend of the family?"

"I am Amelia Broadway's best friend, which you would know if you were a friend of the family," she huffed, incensed.

"Really?" He smirked. "I am the man that Amelia lives with, and I don't know who the fuck you are. So, I suggest you pull your manners back out of your ass if you would like to speak to your _friend_."

He watched the shock register on her face, and she quickly managed to bluster out, "Well, I never..."

He heard a distinctive laugh behind him, then he felt Amelia's hand on his waist. "Ginger, how nice of you to come by. I see you met Tray." She stretched up and turned her head, nuzzling his ear with her nose. "It's okay," she whispered, then she straightened. "Why don't you come in. Octavia is making dinner."

"Thank you. I can't stay that long," Ginger said as she stepped into the foyer. "I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am for your loss."

They went into the living room where Alcide was still watching Sports Center. Introductions were made, and Ginger sat on the couch next to Amelia. She was torn between being shocked that Ginger had come over and grateful that she would offer condolences. They hadn't really spoken since she'd moved to Bon Temps and the blonde had expressed her disapproval of Amelia's choice in men.

Ginger didn't seem bothered in the least at their estrangement. She filled Amelia in on all sorts of gossip about their friends and the New Orleans social scene. Amelia found that she cared even less than she had before she left, but still, she listened quietly and managed to give appropriate responses.

Tray put his arm around her, listening as Ginger talked incessantly. The woman had spent a good half an hour updating Amelia on things in New Orleans, but showed no hint of interest in what her friend had been doing in Bon Temps.

"Tell her about the library, baby," he said quietly.

Amelia's eyes lit up as she glanced at him and smiled. "Oh, yeah. "I got a job, Ging. I'm working at the library in town, helping out with displays and stuff. I really like it."

"Oh. Well. That's...nice. I'm sure your job at the art store is still open, though. I mean, now that you'll be back in town and all."

Alcide had been quiet, but after Ginger's comment he looked at his cousin with his eyebrow raised.

Almost imperceptibly, Tray shook his head. His jaw tightened, and he considered telling Ginger to get the fuck out. At the same time, he felt his chest tighten when he considered the fact that the girl could be right. With her father gone, Amelia might need to stay in New Orleans.

"I'm not coming back, Ging." Amelia's brow furrowed in confusion. "I guess I might have to come down a bit more often. Once they read the will I'll have to figure it all out, but I'm not taking over the company or anything. That would be ridiculous. I don't know anything about the business." She reached over and squeezed Tray's hand. "I don't know what daddy had planned, but I'm sure he has it all laid out in his will."

The blonde looked back at her friend in her own state of confusion. "Oh. I, well...I just assumed."

"I'm sure you did," Tray mumbled.

Amelia glanced at him and chuckled softly, then looked back at her friend. "Well, before I met Tray, that would have been the correct assumption. But I'm happy where I am, Ging. Taking over for daddy isn't an option. I will have to learn how to manage some things, but most of it, I guess we'll have to sell or I'll have to get someone else take care of."

He felt her starting to tense up next to him, and he withdrew his hand from hers, putting his arm around her. "Don't worry about it, baby. We'll figure it all out."

"I just can't believe you have to even think about this," Ginger said. Her tone struck Tray as condescending or superior.

As if he hadn't heard Ginger's comment, Alcide spoke quietly, "Amelia, your father seems like he had everything organized. I'm sure he had a plan all set for you."

"Exactly," Tray agreed.

"You're probably right," Amelia sighed. She truly didn't want to think about it.

Octavia stepped into the doorway and told them all that dinner would be ready shortly, then she went back into the kitchen.

Tray was impressed when Amelia stood and looked down at Ginger. "I guess I'll see you out."

Ginger hesitated for only a second, as if she was going to change her mind and stay or she was offended at her friend's implication that their visit was over, then she stood as well. Both Tray and Alcide politely said it was nice to have met her, even though it wasn't, and the two women walked into the foyer. They said quiet goodbyes, and Ginger told Amelia that she would see her at the services.

They ate in the kitchen with Octavia and her daughter, talking about Callisto's children and sharing stories of when the girls were younger. Tray wasn't surprised that none of the stories involved Copely, but Alcide asked him later if Amelia's father had traveled a lot when she was younger. Sadly, Tray shook his head and told him that he didn't think so.

They all insisted on helping Octavia clean-up the kitchen, and Alcide excused himself to go home. He hugged Amelia, telling her he'd see her at the visitation, then patted his cousin on the back giving him a nod that said they'd talk soon and headed out.

Tray and Amelia watched a little more television, then, when her eyes were too tired to stay open any longer, they made their way to her bedroom. They had unpacked quickly earlier, hanging some clothes in her closet, but he hadn't really taken the time to look around. Her room was decorated in black, white and silver with splashes of purple. It was modern and expensive looking, clearly designed by a professional.

He leaned against the door frame wearing just his boxers and smiled as he watched her flit around and try to organize her things while at the same time squealing when she found forgotten treasures. After a few minutes she turned and saw him watching her; a smile he hadn't seen since she'd heard about her father's death filled her face.

"Good to be home?" he said before he realized all of the implications in his words.

She shook her head and went to stand in front of him. "You know this isn't really home. Just finding things I forgot I even had." Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she stood on her tip toes to kiss him. "Thank you for coming with me. I know the worst isn't over, but I don't think I could have gotten this far without you."

When the kiss finished he held her, sighing into her hair. "I wouldn't be anywhere else, baby." He chuckled. "Except maybe in your bed. I'm exhausted."

She giggled. "You're the first man in my bedroom. To be honest, I don't think my father ever stepped foot in here."

"You've never had a boyfriend in here?" He didn't know why that turned him on, but it did, and he was grinning.

"No," she smirked. "Should we christen the room?"

He kissed her again, wondering if was appropriate to be that turned on when they were in town for her father's funeral. But he thought there was something people said about how death made you want to reaffirm your own vitality, or virility, he couldn't remember. From her comment and the way her hands had moved to clutch his ass, pulling him towards her, he knew she was on the same page.

"Of course we should," he whispered before lightly biting her earlobe. He reached for the hem of her silky pajama top and pulled it over her head. She wore mostly t-shirts to sleep in when they were at home, and he thought he'd have to make sure she brought some of these back to Bon Temps with her.

She stepped backwards, leading him to the bed, then reached for his waistband and pushed his boxers down over his hips. He kicked the rest of the way out of them before slowly peeling her jeans and thong down her legs. Squatting before her, he waited as she lifted each foot out of her pant legs. He took in her body, gazing at her smooth, silky legs, the soft planes of her hips and stomach, the tiny manicured patch of hair that pointed to the place they both ached for him to touch.

His hands skimmed up her legs to rest on her waist and he leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on the freckle on her left hip bone. She smiled and looked down, meeting his eyes before he moved his mouth lower, slowly dropping kisses towards her center. He gently pulled down on her hips to encourage her to sit on the edge of the bed before he moved fully between her thighs. He tasted and teased her, bringing her to release with his fingers and tongue. She leaned back on her elbows, arching her back and crying out.

She was still recovering her breath when he climbed on to the bed, gently pulling her with him. In smooth movements that were practically instinctual their limbs intertwined as their mouths and bodies joined. They held still for a moment, and then fell easily into a easy rhythm, joining and retreating with sighs and gentle kisses. She peaked again, pulling him with her to the edge, and he fell shortly after, his body tensing over her as he came. They rested together, breathing heavily, running hands over damp skin until he moved to the side and gathered her in his arms.

Stretching behind her with a sigh he whispered, "I love you, baby. I'm so sorry about your father."

She rolled to face him, putting a hand on his cheek. "I know you do. I love you, too." She leaned forward and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. "And I know that even in the short time I've known you, I would completely trust you to plan my funeral."

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he understood; then he smiled. "I would trust you, too."

Her eyes welled up, and she gave a slight nod before rolling back over and pulling his arms around her.

Tightening his hold on her, he kissed her neck, then chuckled softly. "I would completely trust you, but you might have to pretend to let my family help."

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

**A/N:**

So, Ginger is a bitch and I love Alcide, but not as much as I love Tray.

I know it's the weirdest line ever, but I loved it when Amelia said she'd trust Tray to plan her funeral.

Thanks again for reading. As usual, I'd love it if you dropped me a note and let me know your thoughts.

Next up - Copely's funeral and an interesting discovery in his office...


	9. Home is Where the Heart Is

**Opposites Attract**

**Opposites 9: Home is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer: **These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I'm just having fun playing with a different pair for a while.

**A/N:**

Big thanks to **ARedheadThing **and **ETheHunter. **They are the North to my South and the pierced jalepeño in my butternut squash soup. I heart them. A lot.

Thanks again for reading. See you at the bottom...

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

The following day dawned to delicious shrimp and cheese grits with Octavia's amazing coffee. They finished breakfast and made themselves scarce so that the housekeeper could finish getting ready for the open house after the funeral. Tray took some time to check in with Terry and Sam, making sure everything was running smoothly in Bon Temps, while Amelia went to finish getting ready.

When she finished, they sat in the living room watching the History Channel and talked about whether or not he should ride home with his relatives that afternoon. They decided he didn't need to leave her his Jeep since she had her father's BMW to drive, so he didn't need to leave with them. There was more of that conversation that needed to take place, like exactly when did he need to return home, and when would she be heading back, but neither were ready to have that talk with the funeral still heavy on their minds.

Alcide arrived around 10 a.m. to drive them over to Shoen Funeral Home on Canal. There would be no internment or graveside service; her father had chosen to be cremated, which wasn't a surprise to her. She'd watched news coverage of Hurricane Katrina with her father from a posh hotel suite in New York City when he told her his plans for his remains.

"See that?" he said, pointing his favorite Cross pen at the television. "That's repulsive. I already told Damon Cataliades I would be cremated." He shook his head. "Ya'll will never find my coffin floating through a cemetery if Mother Nature unleashes herself on the city again." She had nodded and murmured her understanding but as the images on the television changed to looters in the Quarter he launched into a tirade about that.

For the funeral she wore a simple black dress with pearls and some kind of heels that Tray noticed had red soles. He'd never seen the shoes before and they made her legs look amazing. He kind of hoped that she'd bring them back to Bon Temps with her, and the felt like an ass for thinking about that in the funeral home.

"Come here," she said with a small smile. "Your tie is crooked."

"God, I hate these things." It was knotted tightly, and he had been tugging, at it which probably left it cockeyed. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize." She shook her head as she loosened his tie just a little and straightened it. "You look good."

"No, you look good." He kissed her forehead.

"We both look good," she smiled.

"Nah, you make me look good."

It was both a sweet and odd interaction to have in the funeral home, but it made her laugh and took her mind off of what they were there for.

He wore a black suit that he told her he'd bought when his cousin Mel's daughter died of cancer the year before. She was a little sad that the first time she saw him in a suit was for her father's funeral, but she couldn't really think of many occasions when he would need to wear one. She smiled at him again, feeling overwhelmingly glad that he was there with her.

The lawyer met them at there, having taken care of most of the details himself anyway. The funeral director told them what to expect over the next several hours. Her father had requested the funeral service to take place directly following a short visitation, then the mourners were to return to his home for a meal. He described the service and frowned slightly when she said she wouldn't be giving the reading her father had wanted her to. Tray quietly asked that the Priest read it for her and the man nodded. Tray kept his arm around her as they spoke, and she didn't try to pretend that she wasn't leaning against him.

Octavia and Callisto were the first mourners to arrive, followed by any number of men from Carmichael Oil and its affiliates. Amelia had been overwhelmed by the number of people who turned out but saddened that most of them were employees or business associates. Sure, some of her father's friends from the country club came, those people whose children she'd gone to school with, but it was evident that her father's life had been predominately about business. Some of Amelia's old friends came themselves, Ginger, Portia, Sophie-Anne, Jake and the Crane triplets, Claude, Claudine and Claudette. They'd grown up together, at the best schools and in lessons at the club, tennis, golf, piano, all of the things good little rich kids are expected to do.

When it was already quite crowded, she saw a small group make their way into the back of the room. She smiled when she realized was Tray's family. His Uncle Cal and Cherise, Maria-Star and Crystal came in together, speaking in hushed voices as they signed the guest book and made their way toward Amelia to express their condolences. She hugged each one of them in turn, thanking them for coming, until she got to Cal, the last in the small line. He was the one she'd spent the least amount of time with, but the one whose presence meant the most to her. She felt his arms come around her and relaxed into them for a second. It was just long enough for her to let her guard down, and she found herself clutching his lapel, crying.

"Oh, girl," he sighed, squeezing her a little tighter. "It's going to be alright. You've got family in all of us. We won't let nothing happen to you."

She nodded into his chest and felt Tray's hand on her back. Turning to him, she buried her face against him, taking deep breaths and willing the tears to stop.

"It's okay," he whispered. "You need a minute? We can step out of here."

She shook her head, knowing that leaving the room meant walking through the entire crowd of people, and she just couldn't do it. She took half a step back, staying in the circle of his arms, wiping her eyes. "Thank you. I'm not really sure what came over me."

He smiled sadly and kissed her forehead. "Don't worry about it."

She took a couple more deep breaths, then turned to continue greeting mourners. After what felt like an eternity, the Director whispered to her that it was time. Amelia and Tray were seated in the front row, and she looked around, feeling strange that they were in the row by themselves, but she knew that it wasn't appropriate to invite anyone to sit with them. It was sad really, an entire row on each side of the aisle with only two people to sit in them, and had she not met Tray it would have been just her. Her father's relatives from California hadn't even come; they were traveling in Europe and wouldn't have made it back in time if they'd tried.

A Priest from Christ Church Cathedral, who Amelia hadn't seen in years, presided over the service. She was glad that her father had someone to speak kind words about him, even if they were mostly because he'd donated large sums of money to the parish year after year. He told stories about her father's work on the church board and his donations to specific events or fundraisers. She halfway listened, automatically speaking the appropriate responses to the prayers with the group, functioning on a sort of autopilot as she stood to take communion. Then, she wasn't sure how much later, Tray squeezed her hand, and she heard the Priest's final words, "For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever. Amen."

The Priest smiled and nodded at them and then walked down the aisle to and out of her sight. She exhaled, and it was loud in the quiet air around her. She liked the silence and didn't want to disturb it, so she sat still and didn't make a sound. Finally, Tray stood and thanked the mourners for coming and invited them to join her at the Carmichael home for a luncheon. She gazed at him, amazed at how he could adapt to any situation. She heard people moving behind her, talking quietly as they exited the room, but she remained sitting, just taking everything in. Tray squatted in front of her, his face filling her vision, and she blinked, the corner of her mouth lifting.

He reached forward and took her hand in his. "You ready? Alcide can ride with Uncle Cal if you just want me to drive us back."

She shook her head and pulled his hand towards her so he leaned forward, then he realized what she wanted and put his arms around her waist. She put her head on his shoulder for a few seconds, deeply breathing in his scent. It was slightly different than what she was used to because he'd used her soap instead of the usual _Dial_ that he preferred at home. She sat back, wiping her face.

"Okay." She nodded. "Let's go back to the house."

He noticed that she didn't call it home and stood to take her hand, leading her out to the small lobby where his family waited. He expected the ride to be quiet, but she surprised him by talking most of the trip, explaining that the cook for the caterer they used was Octavia's cousin, and she was sure they'd enjoy the food. He thought it was a strange topic, but the mundane information seemed to be keeping her focused more on the present than the past.

The house was full when they arrived, and she was surprised how many people had come back for lunch, but understood when she saw that most of the gentlemen held glasses of amber liquor. They all knew her father drank nothing but the best, and she couldn't really blame them for raiding his liquor cabinet. A little, or maybe a lot, of alcohol was exactly what she needed.

Tray, however, disagreed with that idea, at least the _a lot_ part. As she mingled with the mourners, he kept an eye on her and several times brought her glasses of water in between rounds of Jameson's, or whatever expensive whiskey father had decanted. He knew what she was doing, and he couldn't really blame her. He hadn't wanted to feel anything when his parents died either, but he also knew that she would be embarrassed later if she let herself get drunk at her father's memorial luncheon.

The house had begun to empty out, and he was surprised to see that the blonde bimbo, Ginger, was still sitting in the living room talking with Amelia and another one of their friends. Portia, he thought. He moved to stand near them and saw how tired Amelia looked, but she was nodding and laughing quietly about a story the other women were telling.

She met his eyes and gave him a small smile, then returned her attentions to her friends. When there was a lull in the conversation, Amelia asked quietly if his family was still around. He nodded, telling her they were in the kitchen with Octavia and Callisto.

Ginger looked up at him. "Is that who those people were? They looked a little out of place."

He tensed, but Amelia attacked.

"That was incredibly rude, Ginger. They're the only family I have left, and they were not out of place." She stood briskly and straightened her skirt. "It's been a long day. I think perhaps the luncheon is over."

Ginger sputtered like she had on her previous visit, and he kind of loved it when Amelia took her haughty tone with the woman, and the fact that she'd just referred to his family as her own was incredible on its own. He just didn't want her to burn bridges. He didn't want her to regret severing her ties in New Orleans later and blame him.

"Ladies, thank you for coming today. Amelia and I are exhausted." He waited for a few seconds, but neither of them made a move to stand so he angled his body, opening the way for them to leave. "I'll show you out."

Amelia sighed. He was a godsend. "Yes. Thanks for coming. I'm going to go make sure Octavia has everything under control, and then I think I'll take a nap."

Ginger finally stood and Portia followed suit. He wasn't sure that either of them understood why her comment had been offensive. His family hadn't looked out of place, but they were the only ones that didn't seem to know everyone else.

"Well, if ya'll are going to be in town, we should get together," Portia said quietly, and he appreciated it. She'd extended the invitation to both of them, which was more than he imagined Ginger would ever consider.

"I think Tray will head home soon while I sort out a few things here, but I'll call you." Amelia gave her a soft smile. "Thanks again." She turned and headed into the kitchen and let Tray walk them to the door.

When he joined her in the kitchen, she held a tumbler of something he was sure his Uncle Cal had poured her and had a mug of coffee in front of her as well. He poured a mug of coffee for himself before he took a seat next to Cherise. Exhaling, he rested his chin in his hand and looked around the table. The group looked back at him with tired eyes and small smiles.

Amelia took a sip of her drink. "Thanks, ya'll." She sighed. "We have plenty of food if ya'll want to stay for dinner."

"We need to head home, sweetie. But we wouldn't have been anywhere else today," Cherise said quietly.

"Yeah. Buck is watching the kids. We need to head home before someone burns the house down," Crystal joked.

"Oh, no!" Amelia laughed, imagining the high school boy watching Crystal and Maria-Star's children. One set alone was hard to handle, but all of their children together would be a nightmare. "Is he alone?"

"Well, Bo was supposed to help, but that doesn't mean much," Maria-Star smiled.

Alcide leaned over towards Octavia. "Is there any jambalaya from last night?"

"Of course, son. I could probably be talked into making you some fresh biscuits, too, if you play your cards right."

Amelia smiled at them. Octavia had probably been planning to make the biscuits anyway, but she was enjoying Alcide's attention. "Thank you, Octavia."

She waved her hand like it was no big deal and stood up from the table. "Now, these ladies here need some leftovers to take back. Won't be enough people here to eat it all before it goes bad."

They tried to tell her no, but she wouldn't hear it, and fifteen minutes later Tray's relatives were climbing into their cars with their arms full of plastic food containers. Tray and Amelia stood on the steps with Alcide, watching them go.

"Alcide, you know she'll pack some up for you. You don't have to stay," Amelia told him.

"You tired of me already?" he laughed. "I'm a single guy, and I live alone. Ya'll are good company. I think I'll stay a bit if you don't mind. It's been nice to see my family, although I'm sorry for the reason they all came down here."

"Well, alright then. Come on in. _Sportscenter_?"

"You know me already. Unless there's some _People's Court_ on. Folks on that show are crazy."

"Oh my god," she laughed. "Are you sure you two aren't twins?"

"Hey, I watch _Top Gear_ too," Tray said.

"Oh, yeah. That's a good show," Alcide agreed, and she laughed even harder.

"Ya'll fight over the remote. I'm taking a nap."

"You okay, baby?" Tray said quietly, immediately concerned.

"I'm fine. Just tired. We'll talk later about the rest of the week. When you need to head home and all that."

He nodded. "Okay. Sleep well."

He knew since the will wasn't being read for another two days that he'd need to go back to Bon Temps, but he wasn't looking forward to it. He and Alcide had already talked, and his cousin agreed to check in on her and drive her to the lawyer's office if she wanted him to.

A few hours later, they enjoyed their smorgasbord dinner of leftovers and Alcide was heading home with his own arms full of even more food. Octavia had fallen for his rakish charm and practically invited him to move in when Amelia returned to Bon Temps. Callisto was spending one more night with her mother, and they retired to Octavia's rooms when Alcide left, leaving Tray and Amelia alone in the main part of the house.

They sat together on the couch for a while, each comfortably tucked into a corner, with their legs intertwined in the middle. It was quiet, and the television was on, creating a low murmur of voices in the background that they weren't listening to. She sighed, loudly, then moved to lean against him in his corner of the couch. His arms automatically came around her, and he kissed her temple, knowing they had things to discuss.

"So," he said quietly. "They're reading the will the day after tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she said simply, but the word seemed to weigh her down.

"And then?"

She shook her head even though they weren't looking at each other. "I don't know. It all depends on what is in there. I think we can assume he hasn't left much to chance or left things that I'll need to take care of, but I don't know."

It was quiet again, and she played idly with the buttons on the front of his shirt. He didn't want to rush the conversation, letting her fidget and sigh until she spoke again. "When do you have to go home?"

"Depends on how long you need me here."

She sat up, twisting around to face him. "Do you have things you need to do?"

He shrugged. "I always do. But you're more important."

"Tray," she sighed, and she felt her eyes filling with tears. He overwhelmed her sometimes. He really was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

"Do you want me to stay? I can call Terry and see if one of his friends is around to help out."

She shook her head. "I want you to stay, but I can handle it on my own. It's just the will." She shook her head just a little. "I mean, unless there's a crazy surprise, I pretty much know how the money falls. He'll take care of Octavia and Mr. Chow, who does his landscaping, and maybe give some to the church, but the rest is mine. It's just the business stuff I don't know about."

"It's okay if you want me to stay," he said quietly. "I lost my parents too, Amelia. I remember how it felt. I don't want you going through that alone."

"I know, and I can't believe how lucky I am to have you. I want you to stay, but I don't _need_ you to. And I think, really, if you go home it will make me finish things up down here faster so I can get back to you."

"Whatever you need," he whispered, leaning over to kiss her.

They snuggled on the couch, kissing and holding each other for a few minutes until she sighed and laid her head on his chest again.

"There's something I need your help with before you go," she said quietly.

"Anything," he whispered back.

She sat up and looked at him seriously. "I need you to come into his office with me."

His eyes got a little bit wide. "Oh. Shit. Yeah. Are you sure you even want to go in there? Why don't you tell me what you need, and I'll go find it."

She smiled, but the sadness never left her eyes. "Thank you. But I think I'm going to have to go through a lot of things in there, even after you're gone. I kind of just want to take a look around while you're with me."

"Okay. Whenever you want to go in there."

"Now?" she asked, hesitantly, biting her lip.

"Of course."

She stood and reached for his hand, and they slowly walked to her father's office. She stopped in the doorway, taking a deep breath. Her father had been found on the floor in that room, unresponsive. He had officially died at the hospital, but it couldn't have been easy for her to cross that threshold.

"What can I do?"

"You can just sit on the couch," she said with a shrug. "I just couldn't come in here alone the first time."

He moved to the black leather couch and took a seat. The house was full of leather furniture, some of it a soft buttery suede, and other pieces, like this one, slick and cold and firmly stuffed. She moved to the far side of his desk and took a seat. He thought she looked small behind it, and she shook her head trying to adjust the height of the seat.

Pulling the chair up to the desk, she looked at the items that covered its surface. His favorite pens, a mechanical pencil and a three-hole punch. She ran her fingers down the edge of a leather portfolio and smiled. Her father had been old school. It would have been so much easier if he'd kept everything on his laptop, but she knew there was very little on there that would be of importance, or if it had come via the web he'd printed it out anyway, punched holes in it and filed it in one of his many binders. She opened the middle drawer and looked at the contents. Mints, paper clips, lip balm, extra pens and a highlighter. Nothing unusual. She glanced at Tray who was watching her, his arms on his knees and his hands steepled in front of him.

"I'll just be another minute. Thanks for doing this."

"I'm not doing anything, baby," he chuckled and stood to look at some pictures on a book shelf. They were school pictures and photos of her that she must sent her father from the trips abroad he'd sent her on. Amelia on the beach with an Italian flag. In front of Notre Dame and also Big Ben. He smiled at the picture of her in England, it was a trick shot, made to look like she was holding the clock tower in the palm of her hand. She came over to stand beside him and knew immediately what he was smiling at.

"He actually taught me how to do that."

He turned to look at her. "He did?" He was impressed. Her dad hadn't been involved in much of her life at all, yet he'd taught her how to take picture that was an optical illusion. It was kind of fitting, after he thought about it for a moment.

"It's not what you think," she sighed. "It was a lesson he tried to teach me. That not even photographic evidence could always be believed. Part of his 'trust no one' series. I heard it early an often."

He shook his head. "I am so sorry. I'm sorry for how he raised you, and I'm sorry he's gone."

"I feel really mixed up. Like I should be devastated, but I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to miss." She sighed as she continued to look at the other things on the shelves. "What's that?"

She reached for a moleskin notebook that was tucked behind one of the frames, almost hidden. It wouldn't have been seen if you weren't looking from the right angle. She opened it and flipped through a few pages, furrowing her brow in confusion. "This is like a journal."

From near the middle of the notebook she pulled out an old photograph of two women dressed in caps and gowns for graduation. He noticed that one of the women looked exactly like her. He held his breath a little, realizing it was a picture of her mother.

"Pam Ravenscroft?" she muttered, surprising him, even he knew who she was. Pam Ravenscroft was a sci-fi novelist who wrote about vampires and werewolves, and, after a second glance at the picture, he thought she could be right. Amelia turned the photograph over and stared at the back.

"It's her. With my mother. Look." She showed him the back of the print. There was a handwritten note that said _For Cope. Love you! Liza_, while printed across the bottom were the words _Pam R. and Liza B. NYU Graduation_.

"Your mother was friends with Pam Ravenscroft?"

"Apparently. But look, it says 'Love you!' Maybe Octavia was right; maybe they did love each other."

"There's only one way to find out."

"What's that?" She cocked her head. "How?"

"Find Pam. Talk to her."

She looked at the picture, wondering why, if her father had always had it, she'd never seen it before. Her eyes filled with tears. It was overwhelming, seeing her mother's picture, realizing that, finally, someone might tell her what the hell had happened between her parents.

"Do you think it's that easy?"

"It could be," he whispered, gathering her into his arms and holding her.

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

**A/N:**  
Um. So...a picture of her mother...with Pam? What could that mean? You'll just have to keep reading. And as always, this chapter has made me fall a little bit more in love with both Tray and Alcide. Hope it did the same for you too. :)

I love hearing what you think. Thanks again.


	10. When There's a Will

**Opposites Attract**

**Opposites 10: When There's a Will...**

**Disclaimer: **These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I'm just having fun playing with a different pair for a while.

**A/N:**

Thanks again for reading. I think we all want a family like Tray's and an Alcide or Tray of our very own to carry around in our pocket. I think cloning is our best option. I will look into it in my spare time. *wink*

Thanks to **ARedheadThing **and **ETheHunter** for their mad beta skillz and snarky comments. A girl needs good friends, and I've been so lucky to find these two through fanfiction. What are the odds, right? Crazy. I'm working on getting Eddie Vedder to serenade them, and I'll be making ninjabread men for us all to enjoy.

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

Tray left at six in the morning to drive back to Bon Temps. Terry had called around 10 p.m. the night before to tell him that there had been a big accident on the highway and four cars were being towed to the shop. He wanted to have a nice morning with Amelia before he left, but it wasn't meant to be. She had stood on the front step in a silk robe, holding a cup of coffee, and waved as he drove off.

Exhaling, she went back into the house and refilled her coffee mug. Before she realized it, she had grabbed the leather notebook from her father's office and was curled up sitting in the window seat in her bedroom. She'd caught a glance of handwriting inside the notebook the night before, and although she didn't recognize the penmanship, she felt a need to find out what it said. At the same time, she felt like reading someone's journal was the ultimate invasion of their privacy. She didn't really think that being dead made that any different, except maybe then there was no other way to find out the information that it could contain.

She flipped it open and began to read. Her breath caught, and she felt as if she'd fallen down the rabbit hole.

_I went to the doctor today. I couldn't tell Cope until I knew for sure. Now we need to tell my parents, and they won't be happy. This wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to move home after a year like nothing had happened; but it did. Cope happened, and now a baby. I don't want to go home. I can't leave everything I've found here._

Her mother's words poured off the page, and she was mesmerized. She never imagined that something like this had existed, or if it had, that her father had kept it from her. Sure, it hadn't been locked away in his safe, but he'd had countless opportunities to give it to her or tell her that he had it. She'd asked him about her mother so often that she couldn't even hazard a guess how many it times was, and all he had ever said was, "She loved you very much."

Her eyes were full of tears, yet she continued to read. Her mother had loved her more than anything. She hadn't really doubted that, but she hadn't known for sure either. Her mother wrote about how excited she was to buy things for her daughter, like pink dresses, black patent shoes and ribboned hats. How she imagined family trips with the love of her life and their children.

Amelia had sobbed out loud reading that, wondering how different her life would have been if her mother had survived her birth. Family trips and siblings. She couldn't even conceive of those. She and her father had rarely traveled together for anything other than his business. The only vacations she had taken were with others. Skiing in Aspen, visiting the beach in Jamaica or Playa del Carmen on Spring Break...those were all trips taken with friends.

The final entry was written two days before she was born, which, according to the journal, had been ten days before her mother's official due date. Her mother had been counting down and couldn't wait for her family to fly in from New York. There were also some hints in the entries that her mother was planning to get married while her parents were in town visiting the baby. By the time she was finished, Amelia knew that she had to find Pam Ravenscroft.

She sat for a few moments, staring out the window at her fathers' manicured lawn. Then she made her way to the kitchen and reheated some leftovers for an early lunch before returning to her room and crawling into bed. Her mind was racing; full of what ifs and whys. She still didn't understand why her father had cut ties with her mother's family or if perhaps they had cut ties with him. What had happened in those last two days before she was born? She didn't know how she managed to fall asleep, but she did.

When she woke up, it was late afternoon, and she had a message from Tray on her phone saying that he'd made it home, along with a message from Portia asking her to dinner at the club. She knew she should go even though she didn't feel like it.

She made her way through the quiet house and found a note from Octavia saying that she'd gone to her book club. When she thought about it, she didn't want to be alone for the rest of the night, so she called her old friend and agreed to meet her. Then she called Tray and told him about what she'd read in her mother's journal.

He was quiet on the other end, taking in her words and holding back the things he wanted to say about Copely. He'd decided that the man didn't deserve to be called her father.

Dinner at the club was exactly what she needed, so she took Portia up on her offer. They spent an hour making mindless chatter and sharing meaningless gossip. The food was average and uninspired, but she was glad to be out of the house, even though all she wanted to do was go home. She knew she had to get through the reading of the will and see what had to be done before that could happen though. _One day at a time_, she told herself, but that was easier said than done.

In the morning, she rode to the lawyer's office with Octavia, having told Alcide that she would call him for a ride when they were done, and she would go to lunch with him. She knew that Tray would have driven back down if she wanted him to, but she wasn't really concerned with the will. Her father updated it annually, and she pretty much knew how the money would be distributed. It was the management of the business that she had no idea about, but she was sure there was nothing in there that could shock her more than her mother's journal.

A secretary met them in the lobby and led them to a conference room. They waited just a few minutes before the lawyer came in with a stack of papers and the proceedings began.

The will read exactly as Amelia expected. A chunk to the church, another to his college fraternity. Octavia would be taken care of financially for the rest of her life and be allowed to remain in the house as long as Amelia owned it. Everything else, as she expected, came to her. Carmichael Oil was set to be run by Andre Paul, who her father had been grooming as his replacement for the last five years, while she would take his seat on the board of directors. The art store, that he had bought for her to begin with, became hers to do with what she chose. Everything her father had owned, from the house and company to the apartment in London, was now hers. It wasn't unexpected by any means, but it was overwhelming. She had known that her father was rich, but when Cataliades read the actual amounts in his accounts and the value of all that she was inheriting, she felt a little sick. No one should have that much money. What was she going to do with it all? Octavia patted her hand, saying money didn't go nearly as far as it used to. Somehow, that didn't make her feel any better.

When the paperwork was signed and the lawyer had explained the upcoming meetings that Amelia would need to have with the board, Andre and a few others, they were finished. Octavia headed back to the house, and Amelia quickly called Alcide before asking Mr. Catiliades if he had a minute to talk.

"You did some investigative work for my father, right?" she asked when they stepped into his office.

"Yes, background checks and the like. What can I do for you, Amelia?"

"I need some contact information for Pamela Ravenscroft."

"The author? I'm sure she writes wonderful stories, Amelia, but I don't think-"

_How dare he? _She wasn't a silly fangirl. "I didn't ask you what you think," she interrupted. "I asked you for her contact information."

The lawyer looked at her, shocked, but she was pissed.

"Let me put it this way, if my father asked you to do this, would you ask questions or get the information?"

He bowed his head, appropriately chagrined, then nodded. "Okay. I'll let you know as soon as I can."

"Thank you."

She walked through the office suite and out into the sunlight before she called Tray to tell him how things had gone. He called her his sugar mama and told her he loved her and would see her soon. She laughed and was just ending the call as Alcide pulled into the parking lot. He jumped out and came around to open her door, and she grinned at his manners.

"So," he asked as he climbed into his seat. "Is this a liquid lunch or real food?"

She laughed. "A little of both, please."

"Oooh." He rubbed his hands together. "This could be fun. Anywhere in mind?"

"You choose."

"Even better."

They drove for a while, and she knew they were heading towards his neighborhood. He parked behind his house and took her arm, walking a few blocks to Cafe Atchafalaya. They settled in to order drinks and lunch. After his first sip of beer, Alcide raised an eyebrow.

"So..." he teased. "You're a millionaire?" He guessed at the outcome of the reading.

"Multi," she deadpanned.

"Sweet. What are you buying me?"

"Lunch."

"That works." He smirked.

They enjoyed their meal, talking about his latest projects and her job at the library. She appreciated him helping keep her mind off of everything, and their time together sped by.

Two days later she was packed and headed to Bon Temps for the weekend. She didn't need to be back in New Orleans until mid-week, and she had a life that she wanted to get back to and a mother she wanted to learn more about. Mr. Cataliades had emailed her Pam Ravenscroft's phone numbers, email and address, and she wasn't quite sure what to do next on that front.

She felt a little strange driving her father's car all the way to Renard Parish, but it struck her about halfway there that it wasn't really his anymore. It was hers. It was all hers, and that scared the hell out of her. By the time she parked the car behind Tray's shop, she had thoroughly worked herself up. She sat in the car for a second, taking deep breaths, then walked to the shop to find Tray. He was leaning over the engine of a black sports car when he saw her.

"Hey, baby!" he called, straightening and wiping his hands on a rag.

"Hi." She went straight to him, ignoring his comments that he was dirty, and put her arms around him. "Damn, I missed you."

"Mmm. I missed you, too," he murmured, before kissing her neck and then nibbling along the skin that was exposed by her v-neck shirt. Her hands came up to fist his hair, and he chuckled, finding her mouth, kissing her thoroughly. "I'm filthy, babe. Let me finish this, and I'll meet you in the shower. Give me ten minutes."

"Sounds good," she sighed, her hands still in his hair as she leaned against his chest with no concern to the grease that always seemed to coat him.

"You okay?" It struck him that she seemed sadder than he expected. He thought she'd make a sexy comment and swing her hips as she left the shop, but she hadn't moved.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "It's just...a lot."

"It is. You want me to finish this later? I can come in with you, and we can talk."

She smiled against his t-shirt. "No. Finish up. Once you come inside I don't plan on letting you out of my sight for a while."

"That sounds more like it," he laughed.

She took a step back and then stood on her tip toes to give him a gentle kiss. "I'll see you inside."

"I won't be long."

She nodded and went to the car to carry her things into the house. She'd brought back a couple of extra suitcases full of her things, and she wondered where she was going to put it all, but she still went back to make a second trip to bring everything inside and stash it in the guest room.

When he came into the house, she was stretched out on their bed hugging his pillow. He smiled as he went to turn the shower on and heard her footsteps as she followed him to the bathroom.

She admired him from the doorway as he got undressed and put his clothes in the laundry basket. He was built solidly, but he had a coiled energy about him that let you know he could move quickly if he needed to. She was always surprised when she thought about how sexy she found it that he worked with his hands. His arms, back and a hands were strong and flexible. He smelled of motor oil and degreaser with a hint of the Obsession aftershave that he wore. It was a layered scent that she wouldn't have imagined to work together, but it was distinctly him, and she loved it.

She grinned as she stripped her clothes off and followed him into the shower, taking time to run her hands over the expanse of his back before sliding her arms around him to hold him tightly. He turned in her arms so he was facing her and pushed her against the wall, the tile cold on her back while the water slid over his. He kissed her, slowly at first, then his hand slid between them and she arched her back. The kiss deepened, and soon they were both panting and moving against each other. Then he was sliding all of the way into her, and she was biting his shoulder and clutching at him as he moved harder and faster. The enclosed shower made everything seem louder as she called out his name, and he made growling noises in her ear as he thrust into her. She came first and brought him over the edge, running her hands over his chest, kissing and then biting his earlobe.

They stood together panting for a moment, and she felt better than she had since he'd driven back to Bon Temps. "I love you so much," she whispered.

"You're just saying that because we have great sex."

She laughed and grabbed his ass. "This is true."

He started to tickle her, and her foot slipped as she tried to wiggle away from him, but he caught her before she fell. "Careful," he laughed. "I really do need to wash up."

"Let me help," she said as she grabbed a bar of soap, then they proceeded to wash each other off before the hot water ran out.

A little while later they sat in the living room, tucked into the corner of the couch, talking as she leaned back on his chest and he held her in his arms. She told him about her father's business and the store, biting her lip before telling him the extent of what she'd inherited, waiting for him to freak out, but he didn't.

"You're okay with this?" She sighed. "I mean, I don't want it to change anything, but...I don't know."

"Baby, it's not like you robbed a bank. Plus, you were rich when I met you. I don't really know what the difference is now, besides the fact that you could like, buy all of Bon Temps."

"Funny. I just don't want you to feel, I don't know...sometimes guys don't like it when a woman has more money than them."

He chuckled but then was thoughtful for a minute before he spoke quietly, "I can't say that it's not weird to think that you could basically buy and sell me in the blink of an eye, but it doesn't change things. I'm not letting you take over my bills or anything. I don't _really _want you to be my sugar mama." He sighed. "We'll figure it out, baby."

"I'll have to go back down to the city a couple of times a month, but I don't know what to do about the house. We don't need anything that big."

He smiled a little, realizing that they were both pretty comfortable referring to themselves as a 'we.' Running his hands over her arms, he tried to reassure her. "Nothing has to happen right away. Why don't you wait and see how much it costs to keep it for a while. Talk to Cataliades and the finance guy, what was his name?"

"Britlingan," she murmured.

"Right. And we'll see how it goes. Maybe we can get a smaller place, but still have room for Octavia. I don't know. It's all kind of crazy to me, too."

"Yeah. It's a lot to take in." She nodded. "Oh, and to top all of that off? I got Pam's address and stuff last night."

"Ravenscroft? Wow. That was fast."

"Yeah. I think I scared Cataliades."

He laughed. "You can be scary."

"What do I do with that though? Do I call her? Just show up on her doorstep? I don't even know where to start."

"I think you need to give her a call and go from there. A letter or e-mail doesn't seem right, but you can't just show up there and blindside her."

She snorted. "There's been enough of that lately."

"Exactly."

They sat quietly for a minute, and she held one of his hands in both of hers, watching her thumb rub against him. He squeezed her a little with his elbows.

"You okay?"

"I'm scared," she whispered. "What if she doesn't want to meet me or won't tell me anything?"

"We won't know until you try to talk to her. If she doesn't want anything to do with you, you haven't lost anything. You're back to where you started, having grown up with your asshole dad and a great mother figure in Octavia. It'll be disappointing, but hey, we can deal with that. Shit, Dawson's thrive on disappointment."

She laughed loudly and rolled over to kiss him. "I think I need to let things sit for a few days before I do anything." She snuggled back against his chest. "I just need to breathe for a minute."

His arms tightened a little around her, settling in. "I'm not going anywhere, baby."

She sighed and nodded, and he was the only thing that really mattered. The rest could wait.

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

**A/N:**

OMG you guys. I've been dying for us to get to this point. I've got this written ahead and it's been killing me that you haven't gotten to meet Pam yet and hear what she has to say. I'm so excited that she's up next!

As always, you can tell me what you think. I enjoy hearing from you.

If you're interested, Cafe Atchafalaya is real.

http:/www(dot)cafeatchafalaya(dot)com/


	11. Crossroads of the World

**Opposites Attract**

**Chapter 11: Crossroads of the World**

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just like to put them under the microscope and make them squirm.**

**AN:**

I'll keep it short this week. Thanks to everyone for reading, even those who don't drop me a line. I'm so happy you're sharing in this story with me. Thanks to **A Redhead Thing** and** EtheHunter** for betaing, and for just being who they are. They're amazing.

Okay - so here's the Pam chapter. More is revealed about the mystery surrounding Amelia's mother and her birth. Pam is awesome; I kind of love her. I hope you do too. :)

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

Amelia wasn't sure how she'd held onto the phone number for a month without calling it, but as she led Tray into the lobby of the Empire Hotel in New York City, she knew she'd been right to wait. Her meeting with Pam Ravenscroft needed to be face to face, and it had seemed silly to call her and then say that she wasn't available to come to New York for a while.

She'd been to New Orleans twice since the funeral and the reading of the will, attending a board meeting and signing papers to sell the art store to a chain that had made an offer to her father the previous year. The store had been the one business that Catiliades had said needed the most hands on attention, but when he detailed the purchase offer, including the clause to keep all of the existing staff on, she was sold, or rather, it was.

They'd argued about who was paying for the trip, it was their first argument over money, and she'd convinced him to let her pay by arguing that they wouldn't be going if it weren't for her father and his secrets. Tray had still rolled his eyes at her, and she'd turned on the charm.

"I know how hard it is for you to get away from the shop." She ran her hands up his chest and wound them around his neck pulling him towards her. "If this was vacation we would be going somewhere that required much less clothing and had a lot more sunshine."

He kissed her hard. "I can guarantee there's a clothing optional rule inside our hotel room, wherever we go." He smirked at her, then sighed. "But I know what you mean."

"I'll make the arrangements and keep the clothing optional rule in mind."

Now they were checking in to the hotel and she was grinning at him. She'd seen him dressed up for the funeral and in every variation of casual there was, but when he put on his sort of business-casual travel outfit she'd had to force herself to stop staring. He had on dark wash jeans that fit him perfectly with a golf shirt and dress shoes. He looked like someone in a ad, and she was more than impressed that he'd pulled it together on his own. He'd asked her what he should pack, saying he assumed he couldn't just wear Harley shirts for every occasion.

"Trust me?" she'd chuckled, hugging him.

"Mostly." He raised a brow.

"Set out what you feel you have to take, and I'll pack the rest."

"Really?"

"Sure. You're busy, and, honestly, sometimes I think you're color blind."

"Maybe that's what I want you to think."

"Well, it's working." She'd patted his ass and gone back into the bathroom to pack her toiletries.

After settling into their room, they went for a walk to find something for dinner. She had an idea in mind but thought they would just walk and see where they ended up. He'd been so amazed by the city on their way in from the airport, that despite her nerves, she wanted to show him the city. They took the subway to Times Square because everyone had to see that. She figured if things went badly with Pam on the phone in the morning, at least he'd seen The Crossroads of the World.

They wandered around, taking in the bustling activity that was ever-present in the square. She teased him that they could eat at Shula's Steakhouse, and he made a rude comment about the Miami Dolphins. He was a Saints fan through and through. Instead they made their way into Carmine's, an Italian place that she'd been to both there in New York and in the Bahamas, of all places. She didn't want to do any of the more touristy places, like the Hard Rock Cafe or Planet Hollywood, but she also didn't want to go too far out of his comfort zone. Then again, she thought, with all the game his family ate the food would have to get pretty out there for Tray not to try it.

By the time they walked back to the hotel they were both exhausted, and Tray was a little overwhelmed by the city. He told her it was definitely somewhere he didn't want to live. The tall buildings were almost suffocating at times as he struggled to even be able to see the sky. She smiled and told him not to worry, they didn't have good chicory coffee in New York, so she'd never move there.

She was glad to be tired because otherwise she would have stayed up the whole night tossing and turning. She was still tired in the morning or maybe it was the feeling of dread and anxiety that filled her. She'd called for room service and they'd had a quick breakfast, then watched the news and drank coffee for a little while before she decided it was time.

She didn't want to call too early, but wanted the entire day ahead of them in case Pam wanted to meet her. Leaning over, she kissed Tray and sat back on the couch, pulling out her cell phone with a sigh.

"You ready?" he asked, sitting next to her.

She nodded, biting her lip and held down the speed dial key that she'd programmed into her phone in case she lost the written information. She listened to the phone ring and was surprised by the barking voice that answered.

"Ravenscroft. Who the fuck are you, and how did you get this number?" The woman sounded angry and mean. She sounded like the kind of person whose bite was actually as bad as their bark.

"Amelia Broadway." She said automatically. "I hired someone to find you."

"Shit. That's kind of cool." The woman laughed. "Wait, did you say Broadway?"

"I did." Amelia licked her lips and just came out with it. "I think you knew my mother."

"I don't imagine I did," Pam snorted.

"Elizabeth Broadway? You went to NYU with her."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, and then a whisper, "What did you say?"

"Elizabeth. Liza. She was my mother."

"No. She wasn't. Liza died in a car crash. She and the baby were killed."

Amelia let out a sob, then covered her mouth while she looked at Tray in shock. He had scooted even closer to her on the couch, one arm around her and the other rubbing her leg.

"No," she whispered into the phone. "She died giving birth to me."

"I'm sorry. What did you say your name was?"

"Amelia."

"Amelia. Right. How do I know you're who you say you are?"

"I found her journal. There's a picture of the two of you at graduation. I look just like her."

"Oh, God." Pam made a sound that was part groan and part sigh. "I gave her that picture." There was some rustling on the other end and Pam's voice speaking to someone else. "I know I'm late. Just cancel it. I'm not fucking going." There was a pause. "Did you hear me? This is more important. Jesus." A door closed loudly and there was a creaking noise, as if Pam had sat down, that came through the phone. "Sorry," she continued, speaking into the phone again. "I'm a little blown away here. I have a couple more questions. When is your birthday?"

"September eighteenth."

"Where were you born?"

"New Orleans."

"Your father?"

"My father was Copely Carmichael."

"Asshole. Wait...was?"

"My father died a little over a month ago."

"Oh, shit."

"Yeah. " Amelia sighed and jumped in with both feet again. "I'm actually in New York. I don't really understand what happened. I mean, her last journal entry was two days before I was born. How did everything get so fucked up?"

"Fuck. I don't know how all of this happened. I never thought Cope was this much of an asshole, but...wow. I guess he was." Pam sighed and Amelia imagined her shaking her head. "Can we meet in person?"

"You believe me?" Amelia whispered, almost holding her breath.

"Yeah. I guess. I mean, I think I need to see you, but...fuck. It was all so weird, you know? Everything happened so fast. Your mom was cremated and it was over in days, but maybe that was just to get your grandparents out of town." Pam cleared her throat. "Where are you staying?"

"The Empire Hotel at 63rd and Broadway."

"I know it. Can you give me a couple of hours? I need to cancel some shit and then I'll be over."

"Yeah." She looked at Tray. "I'm here with my boyfriend. Why don't we meet in the bar at noon?"

"I can do that."

"Pam," Amelia said quietly. "Did she have any other family?"

There was an intake of breath through the phone, then Pam cleared her throat gently. "No, her parents passed away ten years ago, and Liza was an only child."

"Thank you. We'll see you in a little while."

"Yeah," Pam replied quietly.

Amelia disconnected and set her phone down, then turned to look at Tray who was anxiously watching her. "She thought my mom died in a car crash. She thought I did, too. Tray, she didn't even know I was born."

"Oh, baby." He pulled her into his arms. "What the fuck happened?"

"I have no idea," she said with a sigh, shaking her head.

He gazed down at her, taking in the confused look on her face. She was excited to meet Pam, he could tell, but also utterly perplexed as well. Why had Copely told people that her mother died in a car accident?

"Should we go for a walk?" he asked quietly, knowing that she wouldn't do well to sit in the room for almost two hours with nothing to do but think. He could think of ways to distract her, but it wasn't the right time.

She nodded and after a quick stop in the bathroom they were on their way, walking along Central Park West with no destination in mind. Eventually, she led him to a park bench that they had come upon, and they sat, just listening to the city and watching people pass them by. He was reminded again that he didn't want to live somewhere that was so crowded, but he had to admit he liked the idea of being able to walk to places or catch the subway instead of always having to drive. He enjoyed a long drive from time to time, and really, he didn't know anything different than having to drive thirty minutes to get to a Home Depot or a chain restaurant, but he could understand why people liked having everything at their doorstep in a city like New York.

After sitting for a few minutes, she turned and gave him a half smile. "We can go back. Thanks for getting me out of there."

"No problem," he said with a wink.

He took her hand when they stood, and they returned to the hotel, ordering Jack and Cokes in the bar while they waited for Pam, who arrived about ten minutes later in a rush. She wore an expensive pants suit and incredibly high heels, her long dark blonde hair falling loose around her shoulders. She looked around the bar at the other two occupied tables before her eyes settled on Amelia.

It was one of those moments where your surroundings fall away. The hotel guests arguing in the lobby, the waitress taking an order and the weather girl on the television, all of it disappeared as Pam looked at her, realizing that Amelia had been right on the phone, she looked exactly like Liza.

Amelia watched for her reaction, praying that she saw the resemblance that they'd recognized from the picture. She seemed to look both sad and surprised, which Amelia surmised were oddly good signs. After a couple of seconds of the two of them simply looking at each other while Tray watched them both, Pam went over to their table.

"Is there liquor in that?" Pam asked, inclining her head towards Amelia's drink.

When she nodded yes, Pam picked it up and downed the dark liquid. Tray stifled a laugh, and Amelia grinned. If nothing else, they had similar drinking habits.

"Fuck. You do look just like her. I wasn't really prepared for that." Pam shook her head, then reached her hand out towards Tray. "Pam Ravenscroft."

"Tray Dawson."

She nodded and turned to Amelia. "So, I guess I'm Aunt Pam. I was supposed to be, anyway."

Amelia's eyes were glassy. "I don't have an aunt, well, besides Tray's aunts." She gave him a small smile, grateful for everything about him.

Pam sat and flagged the waitress down, ordering another round of drinks. "I'm just blown away." She shook her head, basically staring at Amelia. "How is this possible?"

"I was hoping you knew." Amelia smiled sadly. "I was told that my mother died during childbirth. How is that not what you were told? Is that what my grandparents thought too? I just thought they didn't want anything to do with me."

Pam's face turned a little green. "You have no idea how much it would hurt them to hear that. They were supposed to come down for your birth, you know?" She shook her head. "But Copely called the night before they were supposed to leave to tell them there was an accident. They went down anyway, but it was to bring home her ashes."

"Why?" Tray asked. "That's what I don't understand."

"Here's what I know." Pam took a long drink of her cocktail as soon as the waitress set it down. "Copely and your grandparents never got along. They blamed him for Liza not moving home, which really, it was it wasn't anyone's fault. She just fell in love with him."

"What brought her to New Orleans in the first place?" Amelia asked.

"I guess we should start at the beginning. Shit. Does this place have bottle service?" Pam looked around for the waitress again. "Liza was my roommate in college. We were sort of opposites. Her parents were both teachers. You know, the kind who think that the impact they have on kids will save the world? My parents are old New York money, the kind who think that teachers are dreamers and fools. Liza and I, we both knew our parents were wrong, that every single person had the potential to do great things. It doesn't matter if you're a teacher or a socialite.

When we graduated, some of my friends and I were going on a backpacking trip to Europe. Liza didn't have the money to do that, but she wanted to do something exciting. You know?" Pam shrugged. "I had an uncle who owned a hotel in New Orleans, and she wanted to do event management, so I got her set up with a sort of paid internship at his hotel. She was supposed to go to down there for a year and then come home and start her life back up. But..."

"But she met my father," Amelia finished.

"Yeah. They met at an event she had organized. He swept her off her feet. She was head over heels." She smiled sadly and shook her head. "I only met your dad once, and he was a colossal asshole, but he loved your mother. She was going to marry him. Did you know that? She wanted to wait until the baby - I mean you - shit, that's weird. Anyway, she told me that she thought everything with her parents would smooth over after you were born and they could get married. They just wanted her to come home so she'd have people to help her with the baby. I don't think her folks thought he'd actually marry her." She took a drink and looked around for a second before continuing. "I know your grandfather blamed him for Liza's death."

"Why?" Tray asked, clearing his throat. He'd been holding Amelia's hand across the table listening to Pam. He'd snorted at the comment about Copely being an asshole, but mostly, he'd listened quietly feeling a little detached. He still couldn't comprehend how her father had kept all of this from her.

"It was a long time ago, and I was kind of in a fog then. I mean, Liza was really the closest thing I've ever had to a sister. Most people won't put up with my bullshit and complete bitchiness, but she just ignored it." She shook her head. "If I had to guess, now, knowing what really happened? Your grandfather went off on Copely about her death. That he seduced your mother so it was his fault she died. And Cope, being who he was...he probably decided to cut them off. Entirely. He made up a story and kept you to himself. Even then he had enough money to cover it all up so they believed whatever he wanted. Shit. He probably thought they would try to take you." She shrugged and shook her head again. "They probably would have tried since your parents weren't married."

"It's like a soap opera," Amelia whispered.

"I don't think you could make this up." Pam snorted.

"What.." Amelia started and then paused for a second, and Tray squeezed her hand. She shook her head. "What did she see in him?"

Pam exhaled loudly and gave them a sad smile. "I don't know. He was five years older than her. He was rich and smart...And he'd travelled a lot before his own parents died. Really though, he was a different person when he was with her. When I came to visit he lost his shit over something that happened with the company. I mean, he was in the office screaming at someone, but when it was over, he came out and met us in the living room, and you could just see it all melt away when he looked at Liza. He backed out of plans with us and ruined her night because he stayed home to work. She wanted him and I to get along, and he just didn't care. She was all that mattered to him."

Pam leaned back in her chair for a second, stretching her back and thinking. The memories that Amelia brought back for her were bittersweet, and it struck her that Copely probably hadn't been a candidate for father of the year. A sad, yet disgusted look crossed her face. "Was he at least a good father?"

Tray was taken aback at the question and the horrified look on Pam's face, while Amelia looked at her blankly for a fraction of a second before bursting out in loud laughter that turned to tears. When Amelia finally calmed down, Tray had moved his chair closer and was rubbing her back. She wiped her eyes and smiled sadly at Pam.

"I used to think he was."

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

**A/N:**

UGH. Sorry to end on a downer, but how awesome to have met Pam and found out more about her parent's history and get a little insight as to why her father may have done what he did. It's still not excusable, but...I'm not really sure anyone would be operating on all cylinders in a situation like that.

Next week, Pam and Amelia continue to get to know each other and Tray gives Amelia a warm welcome home. *eyebrow waggle*

If you care -

http:/www(dot)carminesnyc(dot)com/


	12. Seasons Change

**Opposites Attract **

**Chapter 12: Seasons Change**

**Disclaimer: **These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I'm just having fun playing with a different pair for a while.

**A/N:**

Thanks so much for reading. Sorry if I didn't get back to your review last week and that I didn't post a Monday teaser for this chapter. I just got back yesterday afternoon from a fabulous long weekend in NYC with a wonderful group of FF ladies. I'm just a little behind in everything, but that's always how it is after a vacation.

Thanks to **EtheHunter** for betaing and squealing her love for Tray throughout the notes she left for this chapter. Extra special thanks to **BonTempsCutie **for stepping in and betaing this week at the last minute as well! She was the best roommate in NYC and my very own snore-no-more device.

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

Two days later, Tray was heading home to Louisiana while Amelia was staying the remainder of the week in New York. She and Pam had forged quite a bond, both feeling like they'd found something that had been missing for years.

The two women spent hours talking and looking at Pam's old photos. It was painfully obvious that Pam had been devastated when she lost her best friend. It was the same ache Amelia had known her whole life. They were a sad pair, yet together they were a vision of hopefulness. The grief they shared had bound them together, and by the time Tray left they were well on their way to becoming friends as well.

Sipping coffee in her SoHo loft, Pam told Amelia how her grandparents, Grant and Amanda, had been devastated by Liza's death. They had wanted a larger family, but it hadn't been in the cards. Liza had been their only child, and while she didn't share their wide eyed idealism, they were her biggest supporters. They expected her to live in New York and raise a family. They anticipated spoiling grandchildren and growing old together while they lived vicariously through their daughter and her children. In one instant, that neither Pam nor Amelia would ever come to fully understand, all of their dreams had shattered.

The Broadways had returned from New Orleans broken and empty. In the early years, Pam worked for a publishing house a few blocks from their home, and Amanda had insisted that she join them for dinner at least once a week for a home cooked meal. Pam never had the heart to explain to her that family dinners hadn't been a part of her childhood. She also knew that seeing her had to be painful for them, a reminder of what they'd lost, but Amanda had told her once that she was also a reminder that Liza had lived and been happy. Sitting with Amelia, Pam finally understood exactly what the woman had meant.

They continued to talk, and Pam was disgusted by the isolated life the younger woman described. She listened, unable to hold back some snide comments and eye rolls, as Amelia told her about her childhood. She had grown up in a wealthy family herself, but one that had been a true family. The Ravenscroft's may have had several maids and drivers in their employ, but her parents had raised her and had the greatest influence on her. It seemed that Amelia's greatest influence had been a housekeeper. Thankfully, she sounded like a wonderful woman, but Pam felt a tightness in her chest just thinking about things she knew Liza would have done with her daughter.

Eventually, they moved from talking about the past to getting to know each other better. As she told her about meeting Tray and moving to Bon Temps, Amelia wondered how Pam would react. She didn't know if Pam, like Ginger, would think that she was crazy for falling for someone who worked hard for a living and lived a twenty minute drive from the closest Starbucks. But Pam hadn't been like Ginger. She'd listened, her chin in her hand, smiling.

"Amazing how things happen, huh?" Pam shook her head with a sad smile. "I've never been lucky in love like that. I used to wonder if it was real, you know, what your parents felt? But I've heard from so many people that it can be like that, so I have to believe." She took a sip of her wine. "Now, shoes? I've fallen in love at first sight with a pair of Louboutins."

Pam was single, though she had dated most of the single population of Manhattan both male and female. She had come to a point where she believed that love would find her when the time was right, whether she was looking for it or not. It had been a long alcohol and therapy filled path to get to that point, but she was there none the less, and Amelia's story only bolstered her belief.

They visited a few museums together and saw Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. Amelia shopped like she hadn't since before she'd met Tray. Although, on this shopping spree she found herself almost buying more gifts for others than items for herself. A necklace that was the exact shade of Sookie's eyes. An antique book for Tanya at the library. Some aged scotch for Sam. A watch for Tray and some Dickies work shirts that would be sexy on him as well as functional. She got Jason a shot glass from the Hard Rock Cafe for his collection, and a t-shirt for Hoyt. For Alcide, she ordered bagels and had them shipped from Zabar's.

It was one of those experiences that felt like there was not nearly enough time to get to know Pam, but also far too much time away from home. At the end of the week, following caviar steak tartare and Bellini's for lunch at Petrossian, they rode in the back of Pam's Town Car to the airport. They said goodbye at the curb, both women struggling with heavy emotions, making promises to keep in touch and see each other soon.

Amelia headed to the counter to check in, feeling strangely whole despite leaving her new found family behind, because that was what Pam was, family. She waited in a VIP lounge, sipping coffee and thinking about how much her life had changed in the last year and tried, very hard, to imagine where she would be in five years. Oddly, with all of the change and uncertainty, her future was more clear to her than it had ever been. It wasn't so much that she knew where she'd be and what she'd be doing, but no matter what or where it was, she would be with Tray. She would be a part of his family and they would have Pam, and perhaps, they would have their own family. _That_ she could imagine.

Amelia was exhausted by the time she got home. The flight to Louisiana had been long and then the drive to Bon Temps had been boring and monotonous. She felt disgusting, was covered in travel grime, and Tray was no where to be found. The tow truck was gone as well, so she knew he was working, but she was still disappointed.

She made her way into the house and smiled at how clean the kitchen was, knowing it wouldn't have been that clean if she had been the one alone in the house for five days. Going straight to the bedroom, she unpacked her suitcase and put away some of the gifts she'd bought in New York. She was sitting at the kitchen table drinking sweet tea and talking on her phone to Sookie when she saw the sweep of headlights up the driveway. Tray's tow-truck turned into the lot next to his shop, and he let down whatever vehicle he'd gone out to pick up. About ten minutes later the motion lights between the house and the shop came on, and she looked out the window to see him making his way home.

"Hey," he said, coming through the door. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

She smiled back at him as she stood. "You, too, big guy."

His arms came around her and they stood quietly for a few seconds, letting the feeling of being back together wash over them.

"No, really. You look great. Did you get your hair done or something?"

She giggled a little, because they way they were curled around each other her hair was the only thing he could see. That and maybe her ass. "We went to the spa."

"Mm. Nice," he murmured into her hair.

"You're just smelling Pam's shampoo," she laughed, kissing his jaw and running her hands over his back.

He caught her face in his hands then and kissed her hard, silencing her laughter. Then they were breathing heavy, their hands struggling to free each other from their clothing as they kissed like they'd been apart for months instead of days. She stepped back a little, sliding her blouse off her arms, before pulling his t-shirt over his head. His hands went immediately to her breasts, skimming across a bra he'd never seen before, teasing her nipples briefly and then bending to feather kisses along the edge of the pink lace.

"Damn. This is new," he muttered. "If you come back with this stuff you can go to New York City anytime."

"I brought you some things, too," she laughed, unbuckling his belt.

"This isn't for me?"

"Well, only in a round about way." She arched an eyebrow and smiled.

"Come on, baby. Let's go to the bedroom. One of us always ends up hurt or we break something during kitchen sex."

"Hey, you set me on the counter."

"And you knocked the drying rack in the sink and broke my dishes," he laughed, gently pulling her through the living room.

"That's it. We're getting a dishwasher next week."

"Oh, good. My hands were getting all dried out," he joked.

She slapped his ass from behind. "Shut up. This is not romantic."

Laughing, he turned around and grabbed her by the waist to carry her the last few steps to the bedroom. He tossed her on the bed and she lay back, giggling, while he sat down to take his boots off and finish getting undressed. She got up and kicked off her shoes before shimmying out of her slacks, catching his eye as she purposely stood before him in her bra and matching pink panties.

His hands found her waist and he leaned forward, kissing her stomach, before he slowly stood and trailed kisses up her body. Her hands were cool on his skin as she slid them down his chest. Their lips met in a hungry kiss, and they moaned into each others mouths as she took him in her , he lowered her onto the bed, where they continued kissing and touching. His fingers teased her center, and his mouth focused on her breasts until neither of them could stand it.

When he shifted over her, she welcomed the familiar weight. He slid himself along her folds, teasing for just a second and then entered her swiftly. Her legs wrapped tightly around him, pulling him closer. Her moans and her fingers digging into his back shredded his restraint and he drove into her hard and fast until she was crying out with her head thrown back. Then he angled her hips and began hitting the spot he knew would send her over the edge. It didn't take long and her body began tightening around him. He pushed her knees higher, thrusting a few more times before he felt his own release rolling through him.

They were both sweaty, and he was panting, his head buried in her shoulder, as he held himself up on his arms so he didn't put all of his weight on her. She grinned, gently running her hands over his back. After a few minutes, he groaned a little, rolling off of her, and she turned into him, putting her head on his shoulder.

"Mm," she sighed. "I don't really want to go away for a week again, but if that's my welcome home..."

"Shit. I could welcome you home like that after you've been gone ten minutes."

-~~~~-~~OA~~-~~~~-

Later that fall evening after a board meeting in New Orleans, she'd cornered her father's lawyer when they were the last ones left in the conference room. She asked him point blank if he knew anything about why her father had lied to everyone about her mother's death.

"Excuse me?" he asked in a huff.

She exhaled loudly. "You heard me, Mr. Cataliades. Do you have any idea why my father told my grandparents that my mother and I died in a car accident?"

The older man looked at her like she was insane, but she was getting used to those looks from him.

"Amelia, where did you get that idea?" he asked cautiously.

"Do you remember finding Pam Ravenscroft's information for me? She was my mother's best friend."

"Shit," he breathed, looking shocked again. He sank back down in one of the chairs and shook his head. "Liza's friend was _that_ Pam? I had no idea. And truly, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Amelia sat down across from him. "What _do_ you know?" she asked quietly.

He bit one side of his lower lip, thinking for a second. "It was a long time ago," he sighed, "but I don't really know what happened between Cope and your grandparents. Cope told me there was a fight at the hospital. I never knew about what. When he changed his will after Liza died, I asked Cope about her parents and he said they they didn't want anything to do with you."

"God," she sighed. "So many lies. I just don't get it."

"He told them you both died?"

"Yes. In a car accident."

"Well, that's not entirely a lie. Your mother's car was rear-ended that day. She was taken by ambulance to the hospital, but, as I'm sure you know, that's not why she died. The accident was just a coincidence, really."

"When you changed the will," she asked tentatively, "who would have gotten custody of me if he died?"

"Your uncle."

"Wow." She shook her head in disbelief. Though she had living grandparents, her father would have sent her to live with an uncle she didn't even know. "What a complete asshole."

"Amelia," he shook his head thoughtfully, "you don't know what happened."

"No. I don't. But I cannot imagine what could possibly explain him keeping me from the only family I had."

"Had?"

She stood and straightened her skirt. "Had. My grandparents died about ten years ago. I'm sorry that I assumed you were involved in the deceit."

He slowly shook his head and gave her a sad smile. "I'm sorry too, Amelia, for everything. I know it doesn't help, but he was madly in love with your mother. Losing her... it changed him."

She nodded, blinking away tears, wondering if that was truly the case or if it had been the other way around, that being with her mother that had actually changed him. She had a feeling he'd always been an asshole, maybe her mother had softened that during the time they were together. She would never know.

"Thank you. And thanks for answering my questions. I'll see you next month."

She cried quietly in her car before driving back to the house. She'd had a similar conversation with Octavia the day before and was disheartened to know that the housekeeper didn't know anything more about the events surrounding her birth either. Though she'd intended to spend the night and head back to Bon Temps the following morning there was, as there had been since the beginning, a strong pull to be with Tray. Without hesitation, she packed her things and headed home.

The rest of the fall flew by. Tray was worried about Amelia facing her first set of holidays without her father, but she had kept in touch with Pam and was trying to focus on the future, looking forward to her first holidays with him.

Thanksgiving at Uncle Calvin's had been an experience for her. It was, what Tray called, close family, and the house was overflowing, as well as the tables of food. In addition to the traditional turkey, there had been gator, rabbit and goat to try. She wouldn't have gotten through the day without Selah's new boyfriend's moonshine.

Then it was Christmas, and there were smaller family gatherings but several of them. There was something about his family that had struck her during the string of holiday gatherings, and she finally mentioned it to Cherise while loading the dishwasher after dinner on Christmas Eve.

"Dawson's seem to have a tendency to have really big babies."

The woman threw back her head in laughter. "Honey, have you seen our men? They're big boys; it's in the genes."

"Yeah," Amelia laughed in response, though she wasn't entirely sure it was funny. She was a little horrified at the thought of carrying a giant in her belly, but also kind of looking forward to having a family with Tray.

Cherise nudged her with her hip and grinned. "You and Pup thinking about babies?"

"Nooo," she answered, drawing out the word. "I mean, we're not _not _thinking about it, but we're not really thinking about it either."

"So, you're open to it?" Cherise grinned.

"What? I guess so. I mean, I get the depo shot, so _technically_ right now I'm not open to it, but eventually," she said, eyeing Tray in the other room.

"Don't wait too long, cher," the older woman teased.

"Don't wait too long for what?" Uncle Calvin asked, coming into the kitchen to refill his drink.

"Babies." Cherise grinned.

"Ooh. Babies," he laughed. "Yeah. Get on that, would ya? I'm not getting any younger. I want to spoil them while I'm still young."

"Are you people serious?" She leaned back on the counter, looking at them like they were nuts.

Tray came into the room, setting his empty bottle in the sink, and stood next to her. "What's going on?"

"These fools want you to knock me up so they can have grandchildren while they're young."

He shrugged and pursed his lips like it was no big deal. "Sounds like a good idea. They're gonna get old fast."

"You mean the kids, right?" Calvin teased.

"Of course." Tray smiled, grabbing a beer out of the refrigerator before he and his uncle went back into the living room. "You're already old."

Christmas morning he brought her breakfast in bed. They sipped coffee and opened their gifts while leaning against the headboard. She'd gotten him an iPhone, new boots and a Civil War documentary. He got her a very large coffee mug made by a local potter she liked, a bottle of Ralph Lauren Romance perfume to replace the bottle that he'd noticed was running low on the dresser, and a hot pink t-shirt with the Dawson's logo on it.

Things between them had been going well. Too well, if you asked her. She was still waiting for the full weight of her father's death and its fallout to settle on them. She worried that one morning Tray would wake up and realize what being married to her would mean.

Sure, he'd told her that the money didn't make a difference, but to him it was still _her_ money. When they got married it would be his too, and she wasn't sure he was prepared for it. More than the money though, if they got married it would _all_ be theirs. The houses and cars, the company... everything. And everything that he had worked for would be hers as well. She had no idea how he felt about that.

Beyond all of that, he'd been married before, and that scared the hell out of her. He'd never really said he didn't want to get married again but he'd never said that he did. He told her that he wanted a family, a partnership with someone like his parents had. She just wasn't one-hundred percent convinced he wanted it with her. They had just fallen into referring to themselves as a couple, referring to themselves as we and assuming they had a future without much of a discussion.

Each day she was more and more sure that she wanted to share it all with him and even more terrified that he wasn't ready to share it with her. Despite her misgivings, she'd been subconsciously expecting an engagement ring over the holidays, and when New Years came and went, she was surprised that she hadn't received one. Surprised, relieved and sad all rolled together.

He'd been thinking along similar lines, that getting engaged was the next step in their relationship. He kind of loved that his family started teasing her about having kids, for several reasons. First it was their way of saying that they had completely accepted her into the family. And second, he got to watch the mix of terror and joy that crossed her face when she told him what they were saying.

He knew that, on paper, their relationship shouldn't have worked. They came from completely different backgrounds and had experienced few of the same things in the world, but somehow, she was perfect for him. At some point, when he was teaching her to start the gas grill, he understood that everything he'd been through in his life had helped prepare him for her. The kid he'd been at nineteen when he married Marnie wouldn't have known what to do with Amelia Broadway. He'd have thought she was a crazy bitch back then and never given her the time of day, but, at twenty-nine, he'd seen too much in life not to recognize the sadness in her eyes when he met her. It was disguised behind her attitude at first, but when she'd broken down crying in his office he'd been a goner.

He thought long and hard about the decision he made. About why it was right to do for her, when he'd known it was wrong before with Marnie. He'd done some research online and even talked to old Mrs. Bellefleur before he went to Shreveport to meet with a jeweler about having his mothers' jewelery deconstructed to create a ring for Amelia. To figure out her ring size he'd traced around the inside of the pearl ring she wore on her ring finger while she was in the shower. He had to admit he was pretty proud of himself for that idea. He'd taken his mother's wedding set, two pair of earrings and a pendant with him to the city, and with the jeweler's help, they came up with a plan to reuse the diamonds in a more contemporary setting. Then he had to wait two weeks before he could see a wax cast of the design and another three weeks before the real ring was ready.

He sat in his truck outside the jewelry store and stared at the small gold ring as he held it up with two fingers. Sunlight sparkled off the stones, and he smiled even though his stomach was rolling with nerves. He'd thought he had a plan until the had the actual ring in his hand, but suddenly he had no idea how he was going to ask her.

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

**A/N:**

Thanks so much for reading this week. Bet you can't guess what's coming up next... Hee hee...Tray...a ring...you get it.

Thanks again. See you next week.

Restaurant links if you're interested:

http:/www(com)zabars(com)com

http:/www(com)petrossian(com)com/restaurant(com)html


	13. Forever

**Opposites Attract**

**Chapter 13 - Forever**

**Disclaimer: **These characters belong to Charlaine Harris.

I'm just having fun playing with a different pair for a while.

**A/N: **Thanks so much to everyone for continuing to read, and to those of you

who have just found this story, welcome. :)

Thanks to **ARedheadThing **and **ETheHunter **for helping me make this presentable for you. As always, they're the bomb-diggity.

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

Amelia glared at him from across the table.

"I didn't think you'd be upset," he said, honestly surprised at how angry she was.

"Really, Tray?" She narrowed her eyes as she pushed her hair back and stood. "Because you thought that I'd want to spend the weekend with your entire family?"

"Amelia," he sighed. "It's the weekend _after_ Valentine's Day."

"Yes, it is. Did you figure that out before or after you agreed that we'd go?"

His head hurt. He hadn't anticipated how pissed off she was going to be. He was _this_ close to telling her the real reason behind the trip, but he knew she was going to love the surprise. So instead he took a deep breath and answered her question. "Before."

She grabbed his dinner plate off of his place mat in front of him, and he opened his mouth to tell her he wasn't finished, but she was already scraping the remainder of his dinner in the compost bucket. She stomped around in the kitchen cleaning up from dinner, and although he just wanted to hide from her anger, he took the butter and salad dressing off of the table to help clean up. They worked in an easy pattern, putting things in the refrigerator and the dishwasher even though they moved stiffly, and there was tension heavy in the air. Eventually, she turned and leaned back on the counter.

"Can you just tell me what you were thinking?" she asked quietly.

"I was thinking that it would be a nice weekend with my family since Valentine's Day is on Tuesday, and we would have already celebrated together."

"We would?" Her voice had gotten even quieter.

He sighed and shook his head, crossing the small kitchen and putting his arms around her. "Yes. We have reservations at Warehouse Number 1 over in Monroe. On Tuesday."

She looked surprised and excited as she leaned back to see his face. "The place on the river? With the steaks?"

He laughed. "Yeah, that's the one."

"Mmm," she sighed and licked her lips. "I love that place. We'll each get something different and share, right?"

"Of course." He leaned forward, bringing his hands up to cup her face and kissed her slowly. "Now, just think about it..." he whispered. "An indoor pool and hot tub. A lot of cocktails. You, me and fifteen or twenty of my relatives at a hotel." He laughed. "But it's just for one night."

She laughed. "I'll need the cocktails. And we're not sharing a room. I draw the line."

"Baby, I know that. It'll just be us and a big old bed in there."

"Okay," she sighed, sounding relieved.

"I can't believe how much you doubt me!" he teased, putting his hand on his heart like he was offended.

"I don't doubt you." She shook her head and put her hand over his. "I've just been feeling stressed, and I wanted to be sure we did something special for Valentine's Day. I didn't think you'd want to go out on Valentine's Day since it will be so busy." She shrugged. "I figured we'd go out on the weekend."

It made sense, but she'd been tense recently, and he searched her eyes with concern. "You sure that's it?"

Nodding, she brought her hand up to his face. "That's all. Come here," she said, ducking under his arm and leading him to the living room where she sat in his lap. With a sigh, she snuggled against his broad chest.

She wasn't ready to tell him that she was both praying and dreading that they got engaged. That she woke up each morning wondering if he was going to ask, and that she had spent several afternoons with Sookie talking, over several cocktails, about the fact that it was normal to want to be engaged while you were still afraid of it. But she had to tell him something because he knew it wasn't just about Valentine's Day.

"We're just still having firsts, you know? I didn't want to share you for our first Valentine's Day."

"You don't have to." He rubbed his hand over her back. "And we don't have to go to the hotel with them if you really don't want to. I can tell Uncle Cal something came up."

"No, don't. We should go. It'll be fun, right? I've just never done something like that before."

"Sure you have," he joked. "We're just hanging out at the hotel pool. You've just always left the state or the country to do it."

She slapped his arm, and they both laughed. He took a deep breath and realized that the tension in the room had eased away. He still wasn't sure that the only thing bothering her had been Valentine's Day, but he'd asked, and that was all he could do.

Two weeks later he was taking care of the final details and loading some things into the Jeep before he went back to the house to shower. He'd been a mess all day, dropping a socket wrench on his foot twice and hitting his head on the hood of a car as he straightened from checking a hose. It was normal stuff, things he did a hundred times a day, but they were damn near impossible with shaking hands and a thundering heart. He didn't think she was going to say no, it was just the anticipation of it. Like getting nervous and excited when you stood in line for a roller coaster that you knew was going to be a blast.

He looked at the ring one more time before putting it in his pocket. It was white gold, shiny on the surface and brushed on the side. The center stone was the round cut diamond that had been in his mother's engagement ring. He'd taken three other stones from a pair of her earrings and a pendant and inset those along the thick band. It was perfect for Amelia. Beautiful, strong and one of a kind.

Amelia had spent the majority of the day with Sookie getting manicures and pedicures for Valentine's Day. Sookie was going on a date with a guy she'd met at Merlotte's, but Amelia was hoping to set her up with Alcide the next time he was in town, so she hoped that it didn't go too well. In talking with both of them, Amelia had learned that Sookie and Alcide had met several times over the years and they seemed both interested in each other, so she thought she'd just kindly nudge the two together as often as she could. A little match making never hurt anyone, she thought.

Sookie took Amelia to a salon in Ruston that she'd heard was good and the two women relaxed and chatted as they were pampered. More than anything, Amelia had just needed something to occupy her mind. She listened to Sookie talk about the bar and her brother's drunken antics from the weekend before and was glad to have made a friend who could tell that she needed to listen and not talk. She'd been thinking too much as it was.

Since her father's death she'd only been working a few hours a week at the library, so she had a lot of time on her hands. Typically, she would have spent it studying some financial reports for Carmichael Oil and trying to figure out just what the hell they meant, but lately she hadn't been able to concentrate. All she could think about was her future with Tray, and how their lives would intertwine even further. Sometimes it thrilled her, and other times it scared her. It was consuming and unhealthy, and Pam had threatened to kick her ass if she didn't get her head together. She told her that worrying like that didn't change a thing so she needed to get over it or take control of things herself. She wasn't quite at that point, but she was getting there.

She stood in the bathroom putting on makeup when he came in for a shower. He took in the black lace lingerie she wore and closed his eyes, counting to ten. If he kissed her, if he even touched her, they wouldn't make it out of the house. He'd have to come up with a whole new plan or figure it out on the fly, and he was pretty happy with what he'd planned. So he winked and stepped into the shower, adjusting the temperature to cold.

She put the final touches on her hair, wanting everything to be perfect in case it was the night he was going to ask her, but she tried not to think about it. He stepped out of the shower and gave her the perfect distraction in the form of his muscled chest and strong arms, flexing as he wrapped a towel around his waist. She flirted shamelessly, looking him up and down and licking her lips, purposely trying to fluster him.

He shook his head at her and laughed. "None of that, Miss Broadway."

"What?" she laughed. "Just admiring my man."

He laughed and shook his head, but he loved it when she said possessive shit like that. She put a hand on her waist, cocking her hip slightly; she probably didn't even realize she'd done it. Still dressed in nothing but a bra and panties, and she was seriously testing his willpower. He grabbed a smaller towel to use on his hair, trying to make her think she wasn't having any effect on him. When he finished, she was still standing there, but she'd added a cocked eyebrow to her expression.

"You're bad," he said with a laugh as he twirled the towel between his hands.

"But you love it."

"I do. I'll show you just how much, but not til later tonight." He grinned and snapped the towel at the side of her leg, careful not to do it too hard, then turned and quickly walked out of the bathroom, pulling the towel from his waist and giving her a good view of his ass as he went.

"Classy, Dawson. Classy," she laughed as he moved down the hall.

She finished dressing in the bathroom and went to the bedroom to find her shoes. Buckling his belt, he looked up and grinned as she came in the room.

"You look good, baby."

"So do you," she laughed, then took a step forward and adjusted the collar on his polo shirt. "You didn't have to do this. You don't have to spend money to make me happy. We could have just had dinner in or gone to Merlotte's. You know that right?"

"Then we wouldn't have had the steaks you love."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He kissed her forehead. "Ready?"

She nodded, grabbed her clutch, and they made their way to his Jeep, which she noticed he'd washed for the occasion. They made small talk driving over to Monroe to the restaurant, and she told him about an upcoming trip down to New Orleans she was going to have to take for a board meeting. When they checked in with the host they were seated by a window overlooking the Ouachita River. She grinned, wondering if he'd specifically asked for it because he knew she liked the view of the river.

The waitress took their orders, and he asked for a bottle of the Saint Francis Merlot that he remembered her saying she enjoyed last time they'd been there. He hadn't known much about wine before he met her, in fact before he met her, the only thing he drank out of glass bottles was an occasional Yoo-hoo.

The food was as good as they remembered, and they enjoyed sharing bites of each others steaks, hers with the crab and béarnaise topping and his with the peppercorn and red wine reduction. They ate too much and were both full, yet when the waitress asked if they wanted dessert, he grinned as she ordered the flaming bread pudding with rum. She wanted the dessert but was really just trying to stretch out their dinner because he hadn't asked yet. That, and she was starting to feel sorry for herself and think she was going crazy, so she was getting dessert and a chocolate martini. Tray simply raised an eyebrow and smiled when she ordered the drink, then he asked for a coffee. So they sipped their drinks and split the treat, though she ate more than her share.

By the time they paid the bill and got back in the car he was so caught up in his own anxiety that he hadn't really noticed that she had gotten very quiet. She was beginning to think that Pam was right ,and she should ask him to marry her, but she was worried about hurting his feelings, making him feel like less of a man if she took control like that. She was looking out the window, thinking about how ridiculous that really was and watching the scenery when he turned off towards his Uncle Cal's property.

She looked over at him in confusion. "Where are we going?"

She didn't want to stop and visit his family. She just wanted to go home and have sex. If they weren't getting engaged, the least he could do was take her home and wear her out so she didn't lay awake thinking about it.

He grinned, his anxiety and excitement bubbling up. "It's a surprise."

Reaching over, he took her hand, and she shook her head and smiled; he always seemed to know what to do to bring her out of her moods. They drove out past the pond towards the wooded area at the back of the property, and even in the dark she knew it was farther than she'd been with Cherise when they'd taken walks. They were on a sort of path or utility road that cut through the property, and Tray turned off onto another path, then he turned again, and the headlights illuminated a large clearing with a piece of equipment near the center of it.

"What is this?" she asked, taking in the derelict pumpjack over an abandoned oil well in front of them.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Take a walk with me? Not far."

She bit her lip and then nodded. He left the headlights on and came around to her side of the Jeep. Opening the door, he took her hand and lead her into the clearing. They stopped near the rusting metal structure, and he looked at it over her head for a second, taking a deep breath. He took her other hand and turned to look into her eyes, and it all clicked into place.

"Tray," she whispered, but he shushed her as her eyes filled with tears, and she mentally chastised herself for being such a lunatic and worrying that he would never ask her.

He licked his lips and tried to smile at her because he wasn't quite sure what the tears in her eyes meant. "I'll never be the guy you thought you were supposed to find, but god am I glad you found me. I feel like you pulled me out of a fog, and I don't ever want to live like that again." He sighed and gave her another nervous smile. "Amelia, this is the closest to being an oil baron I'll ever be, and we both know it. I can't promise you riches-"

"I don't need them."

"I wasn't finished," he laughed. "I can't promise you riches, but I can promise you my heart, forever." He dropped to his knee slowly and took the ring out of his pocket. "Please, say you'll give me forever too and marry me?"

He held the ring up as she began to cry in earnest.

"Yes," she said, nodding. She held out her hand, and he slid the ring on her finger while she used her other hand to wipe her eyes. Then she stared down at the ring in wonder. "It's beautiful."

"The stones are all from my mom's jewelry," he said hoarsely, and her eyes darted to his.

"Oh, Tray. I love it." She reached for his hand and pulled him up so he was standing in front of her. "Forever, huh?" she whispered.

"Yeah. Was it too corny?"

"Not at all."

She grinned, and they moved together into a kiss, their arms wrapping around each other. Then he simply held her, and they both relaxed, unaware of how stressed the other had been.

After a few minutes, she giggled. "Wow. I'm really going to be a Dawson?"

"You are, and that makes me insanely happy." He gave her a quick hard kiss on the lips, then grinned at her. "Wait right here."

Her jogged back to the Jeep and opened the gate, but she couldn't see what he was doing. He seemed to be moving something around, and then he started back towards her with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

She grinned and laughed at him. "You really planned this out!"

"I wanted it to be perfect."

"It was, Tray. You're perfect." She held the glasses for him while he pulled the foil off of the champagne and began working the cork. It was Moet & Chandon; the same brand that she'd bought them for New Year's Eve, and it made her a little teary to think about just how much attention he seemed to pay to the things she liked.

"Baby, I'm _far _from perfect, but you just keep telling yourself that."

The cork popped, and she giggled as some of the wine shot out of the top of the bottle. He leaned forward and took a quick drink right from the bottle to stop it from bubbling up. Then he waggled his eyebrows at her with a laugh and poured them each a glass. He sat the bottle on the cement base of the well and stood to face his fiancé. Just thinking the word made him smile.

He leaned forward and kissed her again, then he held his glass up and toasted, "To forever."

"To forever," she agreed, then added, "and to family."

"Family?" he grinned.

"Yeah, yours. I mean, now they're mine."

"Oh."

"And to ours, someday."

He laughed, and it was loud in the clearing. "Why do you tease me, woman?"

"Because you're so easy to tease. That, and I love you."

"Well, then in that case, finish your champagne, and we'll go home so I can show you how much I love you."

She looked down at her heels and black crepe dress and considered asking if there was a blanket in the back of the Jeep, but she thought better of it, what she wanted to do with him would take time, and she'd much rather end the night asleep in her bed than passed out on the grass. She downed what was left of her drink and started walking for the car.

Glancing over her shoulder at him, she grinned. "You coming? Bring the rest of that champagne. I have plans for it...and you."

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

**A/N: **

Thanks so much for reading, ya'll! The mention of Yoo-Hoo in this chapter has had me singing Kenny Chesney's song _Summertime_ all weekend.

K - I'm rambling so I'll go. Links below if you dig that stuff like me!

The restaurant - Warehouse No.1

http:/www(dot)warehouseno1(dot)com/

Yoo-Hoo is a weird chocolate milk like drink that people drink in the South.

http:/www(dot)drinkyoo-hoo(dot)com/

Picture of an old abandoned pumpjack

http:/farm4(dot)static(dot)flickr(dot)com/3382/3451521376_bb0ac93e38(dot)jpg

This is the ring Tray had made. Really he didn't; it's an estate piece - but you know. These images are from Weston Jewelry's website.

http:/bit(dot)ly/ioYarb


	14. Say Yes to the Dress

**Opposites Attract **

**Chapter 14: Say Yes to the Dress**

**Disclaimer: T**hese characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I'm just having fun playing with a different pair for a while.

**A/N:**

I have a rotten headache, so not much to say today. Thanks so much for reading. You guys are the cream in my coffee (that's a good thing).

As always, thanks to **ARedheadThing **and **E_Hunter **(E changed her name this just to keep us all on our toes. *snort*)for taking the time to edit and comment on my goofy ideas. Now those two, they are the rum in my coffee - and that is a GREAT thing.

Enjoy.

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

Amelia was shocked to see Pam lounging by the pool at the Holiday Inn of Shreveport. The lounging part was spot-on, but the hotel chain was very un-Pam.

Tray chuckled, standing behind her. "Surprise!"

"Are you kidding me?" She turned and shook her head at him. "This whole thing was about our engagement, wasn't it? Did they all know?"

He threw his head back and laughed, then put his arms around her. "No, baby. Pam and Cal are the only ones who knew. Crystal and Selah come down here with the kids once or twice a year,

and it seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up, you know getting everyone together the weekend after we got engaged."

"Hm.. I thought it was about seeing me in a bikini one more time this year."

"Well, that too."

"Heathen," she teased. "Come on, Sookie. Let me introduce you to Pam."

They walked across the pool deck and Amelia grinned down Pam. "I'm so glad you're here! What a surprise!"

The woman who was, for all intents and purposes, her only family stood and hugged Amelia and then seemed surprised when Sookie hugged her. She uncomfortably looked at Amelia over the blonde's shoulder for a second, but she smiled brightly when Sookie stepped back, saying, "I'm so glad to meet you. Amelia is lucky to have an aunt in New York City! I've always wanted to go there."

"Well, you ladies will have to come visit me," Pam said, and she meant it. The week with Amelia in the city had been too short, and she thought that they would have fun showing Sookie around the city. In fact, the thought of the blonde that stood before her in a pair of black patent leather Louboutins was down-right erotic.

"Ohmygod, yes! That would be so fun! Ya'll could be my tour guides!" Sookie practically squealed.

"That would be fun," Amelia agreed.

"That would be scary," Tray joked and both Sooke and Amelia smacked him on the arm. "On that note, I'm getting a beer." Their laughter followed him as he walked away.

"So..." Pam said to Amelia looking impatient. "Show me the ring."

"Oh!" Amelia laughed, holding out her left hand.

Pam smiled as she held Amelia's hand and examined the setting. "The stones are from his mother's jewelry?"

"They are," Amelia said, surprised. "He told you?"

"He did. I wasn't excited about coming down to stay the night at a Holiday Inn just for shits and giggles, but when he explained that we'd be celebrating an engagement..." She paused and grinned. "He hooked me with that, but then I pestered him for details. He did a great job. This design is very...you."

"It is, isn't it? I couldn't believe how much work went into it."

"He's a keeper," Sookie chimed in.

Amelia glanced over at Tray, he was in the pool playing keep-away with Buck and some of the younger boys. She smiled, thinking about how lucky she was to have found him. "Yeah. He really is."

Though the idea was completely foreign to her, Amelia had to admit that they had fun at the hotel. No one was driving anywhere so everyone drank and relaxed, and Pam mixed Mojitos and muddled mint like a pro for anyone who asked. They laughed and played cards, and they sat in the hot tub while Buck and two of the older cousins went to pick up take-out for dinner.

It turned out that Amelia didn't need to wait for Alcide to come up to Bon Temps to nudge him together with Sookie. He was in Shreveport to see his parents and stopped by the hotel to say hello. He drank a few beers and chatted quietly with Sookie, and he grinned like a school boy when she smiled at him.

Pam and Calvin should have been quite the odd couple, but they seemed to get along well. They shared a love of black and white movies and, oddly, Farah Fawcett. After chatting with them for a few minutes, Amelia and Tray left them with Cherise talking about _Charlies Angel's_ and the _Bionic Woman_ and made their way to the hot tub with Sookie and Alcide.

Sookie began asking questions about their wedding plans. Tray and Amelia laughed because they'd only been engaged a few days, but Sookie looked at them with all seriousness and said, "Ya'll know people are gonna keep asking. Ya'll have to have an idea of what you want."

Tray looked at Amelia and shrugged. "My last wedding was a nightmare. Whatever she wants to do will be better."

Sookie and Alcide laughed, remembering Tray's first wedding. "Well, it can't be any worse, Pup."

"I'm sure Amelia won't want fried chicken at the reception."

"Hey, now. Aunt Doris made that chicken!" he laughed.

Amelia had managed to keep a straight face and waited for them to finish laughing before she said anything. "There won't be anything fried. That I can guarantee."

And they all burst out in laughter again.

"Seriously, though. I'm up for whatever my bride here wants," Tray said, turning to give Amelia a kiss on the temple.

"Ooh, how fun! You can do whatever you want, Amelia!" Sookie gushed, then she saw her friends' face. "You don't look all that excited to plan this."

"I'm excited," Amelia said quickly. "It's just...so many things have changed lately for me. I don't think I want what I used to."

"Oh..." Sookie seemed to understand what she meant. "Well, I guess maybe now you want to get married closer to Bon Temps, right?"

"Um...I guess. I don't know," she said quietly, looking down at her drink.

"What are you thinking, baby?" Tray murmured quietly.

She bit her lip and shook her head, but he knew something was bothering her. He set their drinks on the tile behind them and pulled her around so she straddled his lap; she didn't really fight him.

Tucking some hair behind her ear, he put a finger under her chin, bringing her eyes up to his. "Pretend they're not here. What's going on?"

She sighed and put her arms around him. "I don't want a crazy society wedding in New Orleans anymore, and you've already had a wedding." She shrugged. "I don't know what I want."

"Forget about my first wedding. I was a kid. We couldn't even drink, well, not legally. We can do whatever you want. If you want a big New Orleans wedding we can do that. You're still a member at the country club; we can have the reception there-"

"No," she interrupted him, putting her fingers over his lips. "That's not me or us. Can we think about this later? I just want to enjoy being engaged for a little bit."

He grinned. "We can certainly enjoy being engaged. I would be _enjoying_ it much more if we were alone in our room right now."

She giggled and leaned forward to kiss his jaw, then whispered in his ear, "Well, who am I to ruin your fun?"

He threw he head back with a loud laugh, then put his hands on her waist and stood them both up. "Sorry, kids," he said to Alcide and Sookie. "You're on your own."

"Jesus. Ya'll can't keep your hands off each other, can you?" Alcide laughed.

"We're newly engaged!" Amelia laughed.

"Yeah?" Sookie smiled. "What's your excuse for the last six months?"

They climbed out of the hot tub and wrapped themselves in towels, laughing at their friends comments. Tray put his arms around Amelia from behind and smiled down at Sookie and Alcide. "What can I say? I've got it bad."

"Nothing, Pup. There's nothing else to say," Alcide laughed. "Let me know when you find your balls."

They all laughed, and Tray shook his head as he turned and started lead Amelia away. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Alcide."

There was more laughter, and she couldn't hear the comment Alcide made back to his cousin, but she did hear the sound of Sookie's wet hand slapping him on the shoulder.

Several weeks went by and they didn't mention the wedding again. She did however ask him if he was serious about starting a family, and after seeing the absolute joy in his eyes when he said, "Why, are you pregnant?" she cancelled her appointment for a depo provera shot the following week.

When she finally approached him with her idea, he had looked at her in surprise and then grinned; because what guy is going to say no to a simple no frills wedding on a beach with just their closest relatives there? He thought for just a second that his cousins were going to be pissed, but then he realized that he didn't care. If his first reaction was that he wished that they could be there it might have been different, but it hadn't been. What they wanted wasn't nearly as important to him as what Amelia wanted. His cousins could be as pissed as they wanted; he'd still be coming home from the islands married to the woman he loved.

"If that's what you want, book the flights and let's go."

She laughed and kissed him. "While the sound of you not even hesitating to spend my father's money is hot as hell, don't you think we should check with Cal and see when he can get time off?"

"Right," he said, coming back to reality. "You call Pam, and I'll talk to Cal and Cherise."

Tray's cousins had been angry that they weren't included, that was no surprise. What had surprised Amelia had been that ten minutes after the cousins were pissed, they were planning a cook out reception for the weekend after their wedding/honeymoon trip.

Amelia found a dress she liked in Shreveport, but Pam refused to let her buy it without looking for a dress in New York that was "made from actual fabric and not some bizarre synthetic chemical film that shouldn't even be used to cover tables." She flew up for a weekend on her own, thinking the price tags on wedding gowns might give Sookie a heart attack. Pam took her to a bridal store where a man named Bobby tried his best to get them to spend more money than was certainly necessary for a small destination wedding. Amelia was a little afraid Pam was going to physically hurt him before he began bringing them dresses that actually matched the description they'd given him.

After several hours and a bottle of Cristal that Pam had told Bobby to _fetch _them, she saw it. Bobby was struggling to carry in another stack of heavy gowns and he'd placed the shorter ivory dress on the top to avoid dropping it. She tried not to let her face give away how much she liked it as he hung the dresses in her fitting room. She wanted to try it on right away, but she was hesitant, afraid that it wouldn't fit or wouldn't look right on her. Pam barged in with her glass of champagne and gave her a dirty look.

"Nice robe, but you're not getting married in it," she said, referring to the silk kimono the store provided for her to wear.

"Are you sure? I thought I could just wear this with a bikini under it."

Pam sipped her drink. "Not a chance. What's the hold up?"

Amelia sighed. "I think I found it."

"Really?" Pam asked in surprise. "Then try it on!"

"What if it's not the one?"

"Then we'll buy the tablecloth from Shreveport and ship it to France and have someone duplicate it with antique lace."

"Oh. Yeah," Amelia laughed. She hadn't thought of that.

She hung the robe up and slipped into the dress, turning so Pam could zip the back. It was strapless, with a straight neckline and was decorated with elegant handmade flowers covering the bodice as well as creating a lace pattern along the hem of the skirt. The dress was tea length, though about a foot longer in the back, and there was also a row of about forty tiny buttons that fastened over the zipper in the back. It looked like a wedding dress, while at the same time being cute and quirky, which, according to Pam, described Amelia in a nutshell.

Amelia grinned into the mirror, turning slightly to each side and watching the skirt twirl slightly. It wasn't the Scarlett O'Hara dress of her childhood dreams, but no one wore hoop dresses and wide brimmed hats with their wedding gowns anymore, not even in the deep South. She turned even more, glimpsing the buttons in the back. She had a sudden thought and giggled, then covered her mouth and tried to stop laughing, but Pam had heard her.

"Care to share with the class, Ms. Broadway?"

She blushed but finally gave in and told Pam she'd been thinking about Tray's big fingers trying to maneuver the tiny buttons.

Of course Pam couldn't let that slide and made a joke about what else Tray's big fingers were capable of. They cracked up laughing, and when Amelia regained her composure, she exhaled loudly, twirling the skirt again with her hands. Neither of them spoke for a minute, just smiling at the image in the mirror, and Amelia hoped that Pam saw what she did.

Bobby interrupted their musings and knocked on the door. "Are you decent? Did you find something you liked?"

"Just a minute," Amelia answered. She bit her lip and met Pam's eyes in the mirror. "What do you think?"

"I think it looks much better on you than on the hanger." Pam could hardly keep a straight face.

"I think I love it," Amelia whispered, her eyes shining.

"Don't let him hear you," Pam hissed. "It's perfect," she whispered with a wink. Then she opened the door and eyed the salesman. "Bobby! We might like this one. Get us more champagne and then find us some veils and jewelry that will match this so we can get the full effect."

He scuttled away, and Pam gave Amelia a wink.

"Like you're buying jewelry here," she snorted. "We'll have lunch and then go to Tiffany's."

And that's exactly what they did, only after a fight over who would pay for the gown, which Pam finally won when she pretended to give in and then sent Amelia back to the dressing room to look for her iPhone which she'd actually tucked in the bottom of her purse.

Amelia flew home with a new necklace from Tiffany's that would look perfect with the dress and a few pieces of lingerie from Agent Provocateur for the honeymoon.

When all was said and done in terms of planning, it was three months before they were able to coordinate a long weekend where someone wasn't scheduled to work overtime or Pam wasn't on tour somewhere marketing her latest book. That, and they'd had to do a little scrambling to get Cherise a passport, but in the end everything had come together, and they had tickets to Jamaica, reservations at an all-inclusive resort, and plans for an ocean side wedding.

Tray and Amelia flew to Jamaica with his relatives while Pam traveled on her own from New York. They checked in and went their separate ways, agreeing to meet for dinner. Amelia and Tray had a meeting with the wedding planner, Eric.

He was tall and blond, lean and good looking and had a slight accent, probably Scandinavian, Amelia thought. She immediately warmed to him and scooted closer, confirming the details they'd discussed via email. The phone on the desk rang and Eric held up a finger for them to wait, turning to grab the receiver and crossing his legs at the knee.

Tray glanced at his fiancé and laughed, shaking his head. Amelia had no idea what he was talking about and still didn't follow when he angled his head towards the wedding planner. He gave up trying to get her to understand and they waited quietly for Eric to get off the phone. When he finished the call they continued talking about the exact shade of blue that Amelia wanted used for the dots on the wedding cake, and Tray stopped listening until Eric stood and said he had everything under control and would see them in the morning.

As soon as they got into the hallway, Amelia turned to Tray. "What was that about in there?"

"What? Oh," he shook his head laughing. "Nothing really, I was just surprised that he was gay. I mean, I guess I shouldn't have been. He is a wedding planner. I don't care; he just looked so straight at first."

"What are you talking about?" She had no idea where he'd gotten the idea Eric was gay.

"Come on. The way he crossed his legs. The see-through shirt. He's totally gay in a body that straight women must love."

"Oh my god." She started cracking up. "He's _so_ not gay. The shirt. The accent. He's European."

"Gay."

"European."

"Gay," he said again, and he then kissed her to win the argument by quieting her, sliding his hands down her sides to her hips and pulling her tight against him.

"European," she laughed pulling away from him. "But I really don't fucking care right now." She undid the button on his shorts and he grabbed her hand, raising an eyebrow at her. She sighed. "Room?"

"Room," Tray agreed, grabbing her hand before practically jogging back to their room.

Eventually, they managed to catch an hour or so of sun before they had to get ready to meet everyone at the restaurant. Dinner was delicious and the laid back island style combined with the sound of the waves lulled them all into a zen-like state of relaxation. Tray was amazed that Amelia was so calm. Even though he tried not to compare the two, he remembered Marnie being a wreck before their wedding. She'd yelled at everyone and threatened to call everything off at least five times in the days leading up to the wedding. Amelia was nothing like that. She was grinning and laughing with Pam and his family, teasing his uncle about his sunburn and sipping expensive tequila. He was happier with her than he had been in years, and as he watched her, he got lost in thoughts of their future.

Tray was brought back to reality when his uncle pushed back his chair. Glancing up, he watched Cal pat the Cuban cigars in his chest pocket and angle his head toward the beach. Tray stood and offered his hand to Amelia who gave him a quick hug and told him she'd be at the beach bar with Pam and Cherise. Then he wandered out onto the sand with his uncle and they sat down, puffing on the cigars that neither of them would have smoked at home.

"You ready for this?" Cal asked as they watched the waves coming in and out.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. "Yeah. I am this time."

Cal chuckled. "Yeah. I couldn't really tell you not to do it before, but I knew it wasn't gonna end well."

"You could have at least tried," Tray laughed. "Shit. That was a disaster of wasted time."

"Nah," Cal said quietly, puffing a couple of rings of smoke into the air. "We all learned a lot from that bitch."

Tray snorted. "I guess we did."

"And now you've found the real thing."

He sighed and then grinned. "I have."

Cal chuckled and Tray glanced over, unsure of what he was laughing at. His uncle smiled as he shook his head. "Your dad would have fucking loved her. She doesn't take shit from anyone."

Tray smiled sadly. "Yeah, he would have." He was a little choked up thinking about his parents, but he knew that they really would have liked Amelia. She was an amazingly good fit into his family despite all of their differences.

They watched the waves for a few more minutes, smoking their cigars and feeling the sand between their toes. Eventually, Cal stood and brushed the sand from his shorts, then stubbed out his cigar on the bottom of his flip flop. He reached a hand down for Tray, and when he stood, Cal still held his hand. He faced his nephew, and they looked at each other with matching half smiles.

"Thank you, for letting us be a part of this." His voice was full of emotion, and it carried a much deeper meaning than the words alone.

Tray nodded. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Thank you, for..." he paused and swallowed hard.

"Don't," Cal stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have anything to thank me for, son." He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. "Let's go find the ladies. I could use a drink."

Tray didn't agree that there was nothing to thank him for, in fact, he thought there were a number of reasons to thank the man who had taken him in and raised him when he lost everything, but he nodded, knowing that Cal had at least heard his thanks, even if he didn't want to talk about it.

They turned and walked up the beach, their strides falling into the same rhythm, and Tray felt like everything in his life had fallen into place. His past and present had aligned themselves perfectly and he couldn't wait join their families and truly begin his life with Amelia.

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

**A/N:**

Thanks again for reading. I know I say it a lot, but I mean it every time. I am thankful for every single one of you out there reading, whether you drop me a note or not.

Oh, yeah. Um. Hope no one is pissed about Eric. It was too fun. I couldn't resist. Actually E twisted my arms with her giggles to do it. It was really fun to write. LOL

See you next week!

If you want to see what the dress look like:

http:/imageshack(dot)us/photo/my-images/851/dress1a(dot)jpg/

http:/imageshack(dot)us/photo/my-images/828/dress2t(dot)jpg/

Photos are from dreambridaldress(dot)com


	15. The Beginning of Forever

**Opposites Attract**

**Chapter 15: The Beginning of Forever**

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just like to put them under the microscope and make them squirm.**

**AN:**

OMG you guys killed me last week. CLEARLY, Eric is European. Although, TVgirl's husband would argue with us about it.

Thanks as always for reading, and thanks to the awesome betas **A Redhead Thing** and **E_Hunter.** They complete me.

**-~-~-~-~-~OA~-~-~-~-~-**

Amelia walked to the waters' edge and sighed. She stared out over the ocean at the horizon and felt an overwhelming peace. Her shoulders relaxed, and she breathed deeply as the sun warmed her face. The ocean air was thick, and the sand was warm against her toes. Since her father died she had felt a strange disconnect to the world. Every morning she'd had to take a moment to focus herself on reality and remind herself that she wasn't alone in the world. Tray and Pam, even Sookie and Alcide, had done everything they could to make her feel like she was a part of something bigger, and she knew that she was, but sometimes what she knew and what she felt didn't match up.

She took a careful step forward and let the water wash over her toes. It had been a perfect day. One that would top her list of the best days in her life so far. She watched as her toes made lines in the shallow water and smiled, savoring the moment to herself and trying to memorize all of the details of the day.

"Mrs. Dawson," Tray's deep voice came from over her shoulder a second before his arms came around her waist.

"Mmmm. I love the sound of that, Mr. Dawson," she sighed, leaning against his chest.

He nestled his chin into her shoulder. "What are you doing over here by yourself?"

"Watching the waves and thinking."

"About how you want to get me naked and start our honeymoon now?"

"Of course," she laughed.

"What are we waiting for?" He quickly pulled her even tighter against his chest like he was going to carry her away, but then he stopped with a laugh. "I guess we still have to eat dinner, huh?"

"We do, but let's stay over here for a minute." She rubbed her hands over his strong forearms, feeling his chest against her back and taking deep breaths of his scent mixed with the salty air. He smelled slightly different, crisper, but it was still recognizably him.

He kissed the crook of her neck, and they stayed there, quietly feeling the breeze on their faces for a few minutes until he felt her fingers begin playing with the coarse hairs on his arm.

Speaking quietly, he gave her a squeeze, "Today was perfect. I'm so glad we did it this way. Just the five of us. Did you see Cal wiping his eyes? Our vows made him cry."

"I did see him. I saw you crying too," she teased.

"I think Pam's the only one who didn't cry."

"Oh, she cried," Amelia laughed, "but it was earlier when we were getting ready."

"She did?"

"Yeah, she gave me this anklet to wear," Amelia said, bending her leg and holding her foot out so he could see the delicate gold chain with different sized gold beads around her ankle. "She said that my mother used to have the same one. We were both a wreck for a few minutes after that."

He kissed the top of her head and intertwined their fingers. "Oh, baby." He didn't say anything else. There wasn't anything he could say that wouldn't sound trite or that he hadn't said before.

"Anyway," she said, clearing her throat. "Bob turned out to be pretty awesome, didn't he?"

"Yah, mon," Tray mimicked the minister that had performed their ceremony, and they both laughed. "Have I told you how funny I think it is that we got married by a Jamaican guy named Bob?"

"You didn't have to." She giggled. "He must get tired of all the jokes though. He rolled his eyes when Pam started asking him if he was going to quote _No Woman, No Cry_ during the ceremony."

"Oh, god. Classic," he laughed. They were quiet for a few seconds, then he asked, "What was your favorite part of today?"

She sighed as she thought, leaning her head back as he kissed along her neck. "I don't think it's happened yet," she said suggestively.

"You can't pick that." He laughed and nibbled on her ear, which wasn't helping her think of anything besides getting naked with him.

"Um..." She turned around to face him, grinning as she circled her arms around his neck and came up with another answer. "Looking into your eyes and saying our vows."

"Like this?" he asked, his eyes shining in the late afternoon sun as they gazed back at her.

"Just like this," she whispered before he moved his hands into her hair and kissed her slowly and thoroughly. Entwined, they stood together, their bodies pressed together and arms wrapped around each other. "What was your favorite part?"

He gave her a crooked smile. "It hasn't happened yet."

"You can't say that!" she said, repeating his words and laughing.

"Hey, Mrs. Dawson, bring your husband up to the gazebo for dinner already. I don't get lobster that often, and I'd like to eat it while it's hot," Cal called from a few yards behind them.

"Ooh! Gotta go!" Tray laughed before grabbing her hand and turning around quickly to lead her towards his uncle.

"No!" She laughed behind him. "Not fair!"

"Who said anything about fair!" He stepped to the side and swooped her up into his arms to carry her bridal style.

By the time they made it to the gazebo, Pam was clinking a spoon against her champagne glass, encouraging them to kiss. Tray set Amelia down gently, allowing her to get her balance, but he kept his arms around her and leaned down to kiss her, and kiss her, until, eventually, the clapping of their family turned into laughter, and then his uncle let out a loud wolf whistle. She was laughing before the kiss ended, giggling into her hands as she stepped back from him, and both of their eyes were glazed over with desire.

"Keep your hands off of each other until we finish dinner!" Cherise teased.

"Pam made us kiss!" Amelia joked.

"I didn't _make_ you do anything," Pam snorted.

"I'm about to make them eat," Cal said dryly as everyone took their places around an elegantly set table.

The wood table was stained dark with hurricane lamps of varying sizes running down the middle on top of a bright white table runner. The lit candles were ivory and studded with small pearls and crystals; they flickered in the ocean air even though they were protected by the glass lamps. A resort employee who had been watching the group gave someone a signal and two waiters began bringing out plates of salad. Before anyone could take a bite, Pam stood back up, holding her champagne glass up to make a toast. Tray took Amelia's hand in his with a squeeze, knowing that Pam's words would be emotional.

She smiled down at them. "I want to thank Tray and Amelia for letting me be a part of this. I know family is important to the Dawson's," she paused as her eyes filled with tears, "and I am glad that Amelia is a part of your family now." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and took a deep breath, then started speaking again with a laugh, "Anyway...a year ago I couldn't have dreamed that I would be here, and now, after spending time with all of you, I can't imagine not being here or Tray and Amelia not being together. So...may the road rise to meet you and all of that crap during your very long, prolific marriage...To happiness."

Cal and Cherise cheered at the word prolific while Tray and Amelia laughed. When Pam finished, they all raised their glasses and clinked them with a round of "cheers." They enjoyed their salads and then had the lobster Cal had been waiting for with asparagus and new potatoes.

When they were finished with dinner, a waiter brought out coffee while another carried out their small cake.

It was two square layers of chocolate cake with chocolate filling, covered in rich white buttercream frosting and decorated with small Tiffany blue dots. Cherise had laughed when Amelia described the cake, saying that the something blue was supposed to be on the bride, not the cake. When Amelia pulled out the tiny Tiffany blue thong out of her suitcase, Cherise had cracked up laughing.

"Well, I guess the cake matches something!"

Tray stood with Amelia, and they cut the cake as the photographer snapped more pictures. Pam had paid him extra to take candid photos and spend the day with them. She'd also given him several cocktails and nicknamed him Skippy, which he'd taken quite well with a laugh, saying for what she'd paid him he'd work all night and she could call him whatever she wanted. No one told him that he was probably going to regret saying that.

The newlyweds held small pieces of cake in the air as they grinned at each other. They paused for a moment, both thinking about being silly and smashing the cake into the other's mouth, but he moved first, gently bringing the cake closer to her mouth with his other hand up to catch crumbs, and she followed his lead.

Then, mouths still full of cake, she leaned in and kissed him, smearing frosting from her lips to his. He shook his head at her, coughing a little from laughing while he was trying to swallow, while their families laughed and someone began clinking their champagne flute encouraging them to kiss yet again.

When the laughter died down, and they had indeed kissed another time, Amelia bit her lip and looked uncharacteristically shy before announcing that she and Tray were going to retire to their room.

"Took you long enough!"

"Awww."

"Good! Get a room! We're tired of watching you eyefuck."

They hugged everyone and made their way towards the main part of the resort, pausing several times for the photographer to take his final shots.

Tray closed the door to their room behind them and leaned against it with a sigh. "We're finally alone," he said with a chuckle.

"We only had three guests!"

He shrugged. "I'm glad they were here, but by the time we started dinner I just wanted to be alone with you."

"Aw. That's sweet, but now I'm all yours," she said, walking back towards him at the door.

"For the rest of the week."

She put her arms around him. "For the rest of your life."

"Fuck, yeah," he laughed, spinning them around so her back was against the door before kissing her.

Her hands found their way to his chest, then his hair, and then they slid down his back and around to the buttons on his linen shirt. She felt his kisses along her jaw and down her neck until he was gently biting her collarbone and his fingers began fumbling with the back of her dress. He muttered something against her neck and she felt the pressure of his hands change. Her head banged back against the door when she realized what he was doing and quickly straightened up and pushed against his chest.

"Don't even think it," she panted. "Don't rip it. You have to undo the buttons or I'll get Pam to do it."

"What?" he mumbled, kissing her jaw again, his hands still feeling the closure on her dress..

"Stop. I mean it," she laughed, sliding her hands up to push his face away. "Do. Not. Rip. The. Dress."

He stepped back and shook his head, clearing it. "You're serious?"

"Yes!" She grinned, though she was serious. "There's a crochet hook in my bag in case you have trouble."

"A what?" He looked confused and a little pissed off.

"Wait here," she said, stepping under his arms and going to grab the metal hook from the top of the dresser where she'd left it earlier. Turning to find him, he was still in the entryway. "Come here. The quicker we do this, the quicker we do that." She waggled her eyebrows and sat down on the bed before he pushed off the door and came over to sit behind her.

He snorted. "I plan on taking my time with you."

"Well, hurry up with the buttons then."

Ten minutes and a lot of swearing later, he lowered the zipper on her dress exposing more of her back. Unhooking the clasps on her strapless bra, he slid his hands around her rib cage to cup her breasts. He kissed the top of her shoulder as his fingers teased her sensitive nipples. She moaned and turned her head to find his lips with hers, as she covered his hands with her own in encouragement. Breaking away, he lifted her to standing and turned her around as he pushed the dress down so she could step out of it.

She stepped out of the dress as it pooled on the floor and looked into his eyes, then lowered herself to her knees between his legs. She slid her hands up his thighs, feeling the strong muscles of his legs, before unbuttoning his fly and encouraging him to lift his ass to slide his pants and boxers down. He made quick work finishing the buttons on his shirt, and she laughed thinking about the problems he'd just had with her dress.

"No laughing," he whispered. "This is a serious seduction."

"Oh, sorry." She tried to stop smiling, and after slipping his arms out of the shirt, he grabbed her and managed to roll them onto the bed.

His arms were braced beside her, and he leaned down over her chest. "Serious." He kissed the top of one breast and trailed his tongue down her body as she arched into his touch. "Seduction." He kissed her belly button, teasing it with his lips and tongue, before his nose skimmed along her stomach, finally tracing the top of her tiny thong.

"Something blue?" he asked quietly, looking up to see her nod her head in response. "Very nice."

Her breathing picked up, and she expected him to yank the tiny triangle of fabric off, so it drove her crazy when he gently and slowly pulled the straps down her legs, his breath warm on her skin just above where she needed him to touch her. He placed a light kiss on her hip bone and moved back up her body to kiss her. His tongue stroking her mouth, and he moved his hand between her legs, his fingers sliding in and out of her center and rubbing her most sensitive spot.

Her hips moved against him, pushing into his hand, trying to get even closer to him. His skin was smooth under her fingers as they clutched his shoulders and made their way up and down his back. They were both beginning to breathe heavy when she reached between them and brought him to her entrance. She bit her lip as he slid into her, his eyes on hers the entire time. When their bodies were pressed tightly together, he kissed her lips again before drawing his hips back beginning to stroke in and out. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her breasts against him as best she could, needing to feel his skin on hers.

When she tensed and cried out, her orgasm spread from her center, pleasure reaching every cell of her body. There was a rhythmic banging that she didn't recognize until her mind cleared, as the headboard against the wall as he stroked into her. She smiled as she rocked her hips to meet his, whispering the things she knew would put him over the edge. He kept going until he couldn't hold back, and his release rolled through him as he groaned and shuddered against her.

"Holy shit," she laughed as his sweaty forehead rested on her shoulder. "We should get married all the time."

He laughed as he continued to breathe hard for a few seconds before shifting off of her. "Let's just repeat the honeymoon part, not the getting married part."

"Mmm. That sounds good," she sighed, snuggling along his side with her head on his shoulder and one hand over his heart. He made circles on her back with his fingertips, and she felt like she could lie there forever with him, but after a few minutes she went to the bathroom before she fell asleep.

When she came around the corner into the bedroom he was standing by the sliding door looking out at the beach. He turned to look at her over his shoulder, and her breath caught at the image in front of her; an outside light created a warm, ethereal glow around him in the dark room. He cocked his head at her, and she shook her head, grinning, and walked towards him.

"It's stupid," she laughed. "You looked all angelic in that light, and we both know that's not true."

"An optical illusion," he chuckled, putting his arms around her. "It draws you into my wicked bed."

She snorted. "Yeah, because you have to twist my arm to get me there."

"It's not your arm I want to twist."

"You're so fucking dirty."

"You love it." 

"I kind of do," she laughed.

They stood together looking out at the ocean, and he was glad that he'd listened when she said they had to have an ocean view room.

"Wait here," he said quietly, turning to grab his boxers and a t-shirt from her suitcase. He handed her the shirt and slipped his boxers on. "Let's sit outside."

"I don't get underwear?"

"You don't need underwear," he laughed as he opened the door. He sat down in a lounge chair, pulling her into his lap before wrapping his arms around her.

She snuggled back against him and sighed. "I don't want today to end."

"Yeah, but when we wake up tomorrow, the wedding is behind us. We're married. For good."

"Mmm. For good," she murmured, trying to keep her eyes from closing. No matter how great the day had been, it had also been exhausting and as she relaxed and let the warmth from his body radiate into hers, it all caught up with her.

"I love you, Mrs. Dawson."

She managed a small smile, but "Mmm," was all she got out before she fell asleep in his arms.

**-~-~-~-~-~OA~-~-~-~-~-**

**A/N:**

Thanks again fro reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoyed the wedding! I couldn't resist a little Bob in Jamaica.

We're winding down kids...I wanted to give you a heads up that there are just two more chapters.


	16. Baby, I'm Amazed

**Opposites Attract**

**Chapter 16: Baby, I'm Amazed**

**Disclaimer: **These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I'm just having fun playing with a different pair for a while.

**A/N:**

Happy Tuesday. As always, thanks for reading. Glad you enjoyed the beach wedding. I'd really just like to go to a beach about now. LOL

As usual, thanks **ARedheadThing **and **E_Hunter **for taking the time out of their busy lives to chat with me, fix my mistakes and make silly comments on this story.

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

After the wedding their lives became even more blended. They worked out their schedules to allow Tray to make trips to New Orleans with her sometimes and updated both the office and computer so Amelia could get more work done from home. The office remodel got them both thinking about how small the house actually was once there were two of them living in it.

They met with Alcide in New Orleans and talked about ideas for an addition, and he set them up with an architect who created the plans for what would become a massive overhaul of their home. In the end, two additional bedrooms and one and a half bathrooms would be added, as well as a large deck and a slab for a hot tub. It was four months to the day after their wedding when they broke ground.

The project almost immediately took its toll on Amelia. She wasn't used to the disruptions of a construction site or the inevitable delays that occurred. She was stressed out, frustrated and exhausted. And then about a month into it, she got sick. So sick that after a week Tray decided that he had to take her to the emergency room. He was sure she was dehydrated, and he was terrified wondering what could be wrong with her. She couldn't keep any food down and could hardly keep her eyes open. Her body ached, though she wasn't sure if that was a symptom or the result of throwing up repeatedly. She figured that she just had a nasty case of the flu, but it really had gone on longer than she expected.

They sat in a full Emergency Room waiting area for three hours, and Amelia whined the whole time that she just wanted to go home and lie down, but Tray held firm. It was a Saturday, and he wasn't waiting until Monday to drive her to New Orleans to see her regular doctor. At one point, a woman was brought in on a stretcher complaining of chest pains, and she was taken to a room immediately. Then a man came in with his hand wrapped in a very bloody towel, and he, too, was seen without delay. Tray was getting angry, bouncing his knee and flexing his fingers when Amelia made a quiet groaning sound.

"I need a bucket. Where's the bucket?" she said quickly, putting her hand over her mouth, and he grabbed the garbage can that he'd commandeered earlier and held it in front of her. She dry-heaved a few times, and he couldn't take it anymore.

He stalked over to the registration desk. "Someone needs to see my wife," he growled. Before the nurse could respond he held his hand up. "I know ya'll have procedures, but that woman over there? The one that you've made wait over three hours to be seen by anyone? Dawson is her married name. Her father's name was Carmichael. As in Carmichael Oil."

The nurse paled but tried to maintain her composure. "I understand, sir. Someone should be with you shortly. Let me go see if a room has cleared."

"You go do that," he said sarcastically. He huffed and turned back to Amelia who was white as a sheet and had beads of sweat on her forehead.

"Seriously?" She smiled weakly. "You just dropped my father's name?"

He sighed and sat down in the chair next to hers again, putting his arm around her and gently rubbing her back. "Fuck. I did. I can't believe I did that."

"If I didn't feel like throwing up, it would have been sexy."

"If you didn't need a toothbrush and a shower..." he teased.

"What happened to for better or worse?" she laughed. "Cuz this is clearly worse."

He laughed and pulled her closer to him. "It's not that I don't want you, baby, but let's get you hydrated first, okay? You haven't kept anything down in days."

She snorted. "I'll give you that. I could use a nap, too," she said with a yawn.

"This is fucking ridiculous," he grumbled, and as if someone had heard him or even cared, a nurse came into the waiting room and called Amelia's name.

They followed the woman into a small exam room with both a sliding glass door and curtain for privacy. The nurse took her blood pressure and temperature, then asked some questions about why she'd come to the Emergency Room. She excused herself, and Amelia and Tray waited another thirty minutes for a doctor.

A tired looking woman, who was so short she barely came up to Tray's belly button, came in and introduced herself as Doctor Ludwig. She took Amelia's pulse and repeated some of the questions the nurse had asked while she did a quick physical examination. She asked Amelia to rate her nausea on a scale from one to ten and asked about other symptoms. She readily agreed that Amelia was dehydrated and had the nurse get her started on IV fluids and said she wanted to run some blood tests.

After having blood drawn, Amelia rested quietly on the hospital bed with an IV in her arm, finally relaxing after hours sitting in the hard plastic chairs. Tray gave her a kiss on the forehead and stepped out into the lobby to make a phone call to Terry, since they'd been at the hospital much longer than he'd originally thought. Terry had no problem staying on call for the shop and told Tray not to worry.

While he was outside, Doctor Ludwig returned and had some more questions for Amelia. "Have you had any other changes medically lately? Stopped any prescriptions or anything?"

Amelia tried to think. "Not really. I stopped getting the Depo shot before we got married, but...nothing since that."

Dr. Ludwig nodded. "How long ago was that?"

"Our wedding? Five months."

"That's nice," the doctor chuckled. "When did you stop using DepoProvera?"

"Oh! Um a couple months before that. So, around eight or nine months ago."

The doctor jotted something down and asked when her last period was and whether it had regulated after she stopped getting the injections. Amelia told her that it was sporadic, but explained that her cycle had been irregular before she started using birth control. Doctor Ludwig asked a few more questions about prescriptions and her family' health history. Amelia explained the things she knew about her father's side of the family but told the doctor she didn't know anything about her mother's family.

The small woman stood, tapping her stethoscope in her hand. "Well, I'll go see if we've heard from the lab, but we've probably got our answer."

Amelia looked at her blankly. She was exhausted, true, but she didn't know where in that conversation they'd come up with the reason for her misery.

The corner of Dr. Ludwig's mouth raised in a smile. "Dear, I'll have to check your test results, but what do you think happens when you go off birth control and have a lot of sex with your new husband?"

"Oh," Amelia said dumbly. "That could be it."

"Yes," the doctor laughed, patting her hand. "Let me go harass the lab, and I'll come let you know."

Amelia watched the doctor leave and heard the sound of the sliding door opening and closing to seal her in the room alone. Well, apparently not alone, because she was probably pregnant. Could that really be it? What if that wasn't it? What if it was something horrible? Cancer or some crazy disease no one had heard of? She flopped back on the hospital bed and tried to cover her eyes with her arm, but the tubing from the IV was tickling her face so she had to switch arms. The sliding door to her room opened and closed again, and she looked from under her arm to see Tray coming in, concern all over his face.

"Did the doctor come back?"

"Yes," she mumbled, her eyes covered again.

"Did she know anything?"

Amelia took a deep breath. Did she dare tell him? What if she wasn't really pregnant? That would crush him. But the more she thought about it, the more she thought the doctor was probably right. She just hadn't thought it was possible so soon after she'd stopped getting the birth control injections. The gynecologist had even told her it took every woman a different amount of time before they began to ovulate again. In reality, it had been almost nine months since her last shot, and she had no idea where the time had gone.

"Amelia?" Tray's voice interrupted her thoughts.

She sighed and sat up awkwardly, trying not to tangle the IV and looked at him with a hint of guilt for worrying him so much and for not knowing her own body. "She thinks," she started but stopped and bit her lip. "She thinks I'm an idiot, and that I'm probably pregnant."

He was quiet for a second and started to chuckle. "Are you serious?"

"About being an idiot or being pregnant?" 

"You're not an idiot. It's the pregnancy part I'm curious about." He was starting to smile, but hiis body was tense, poised with excitement that he didn't dare let bubble up.

"Well, she didn't confirm anything. She wants to see the test results, but that's the likely scenario, thus...I'm an idiot."

He took the remaining couple of steps over to the bed and carefully pulled her into hug, trying not to pull on her IV but still managing to practically lift her off the bed.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"For what?" he asked with a chuckle, reaching a long arm back to grab the small chair in the corner so he could sit in front of her. He took her hands in his, rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs. He looked excited, but she could tell he was holding back because he was worried. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because I had no idea. I didn't even think it was possible."

"Amelia," he laughed. "It's always possible. Well, mostly, you know," he added quietly and she knew he was thinking about Cherise and Cal, who hadn't been able to have their own children.

"I know." She shook her head. "I just wasn't expecting it."

"Are you upset?" His shoulders were tightening again with worry. "I thought you were ready."

She laughed. "I was ready or I am. I mean, I was ready to start trying, it's actually being pregnant that's freaking me out."

He laughed and put his hands on her face before kissing her. "It's going to be fine. We're doing this together, remember?"

"I know. I know," she laughed and leaned her forehead down to rest on his head.

"Lie down, baby. I know you're exhausted," he said quietly.

He stood and raised an eyebrow at her until she did as he instructed. Then he waited until she closed her eyes, and he walked over to the sliding door to watch the doctors and nurses moving around the nurse's station. He took a deep breath and tried not to get too excited about the idea of her being pregnant. He was still afraid that something else was the reason behind how sick she'd been, and that would fucking destroy him, but a baby...He thought about how amazing that would be. He knew she'd stopped using birth control, but he didn't really know the logistics of how soon after that she could get pregnant. It hadn't really mattered to him since he was ready to start a family. And here they were. Possibly pregnant.

Amelia's breathing evened out, and he looked back to see her sleeping, clutching a pillow with the arm that didn't have the IV in it. She'd been asleep for about ten minutes when a nurse came in and changed the IV bag. The nurse smiled at Tray and told him the doctor was with another family and that she'd be in shortly with Amelia's test results. She smiled and ducked back out of the room, and Tray couldn't help but wonder if her smile meant anything or if the woman was just being nice. He scrubbed his face with his hands and went back to sit in the chair next to her bed. It wasn't comfortable, but at least it was upholstered and had a small cushion; the chairs in the waiting room had been hard plastic and shaped to fit some tiny humans' ass.

The hiss of the door startled him, and he realized that he must have fallen asleep. He raised his head from where he'd been resting it on his arms, and the small doctor came around to stand across from him.

"She fell asleep?" Doctor Ludwig asked in surprise.

"Yeah. She's had a rough week," he answered flatly.

The doctor nodded. "Well, if you wouldn't mind, wake her up and we'll talk."

"Sure," he said, reaching his hand up to her shoulder and then to touch her cheek. "Amelia. Baby, can you wake up so we can talk to the doctor?"

"What? Yeah," she answered, licking her lips and blinking. She inhaled deeply and opened her eyes wide as she woke up, then she shook her head a little and sighed when Tray took her hand.

"So," Doctor Ludwig said, clearing her throat. "Amelia and I talked a little more about her medical history, and the tests have confirmed what I was thinking. Ya'll are pregnant." She smiled and paused for a second while Tray stood quickly to kiss Amelia, who was still completely shocked.

"Now," she continued, and Tray kissed Amelia's forehead before sitting down again. "A blood test is just a yes or no kind of thing. Ya'll need to make an appointment with an O.B. to figure out how far along ya'll are for sure, but since Mrs. Dawson said her last true menstrual cycle was about eight weeks ago, that's probably pretty close. Your due date will likely be based on that until you get farther along and your O.B. gets better measurements as the baby grows."

Tray grinned, and even though Amelia had sort of prepped him for the news, he was so happy that he couldn't even form words to say to the doctor. He really just wanted her to leave so he could hold his wife and show her how happy he was.

"I figure ya'll are due in mid-May," the doctor said quietly. "Now, the good news is, when you see your O.B. you can talk about the severity of your nausea and see what you want to do about it. The bad news is, I'm not giving ya'll anything tonight. We got you hydrated and that was the most important thing. I printed you a list of things to try on your own to see if they help with the nausea..." The doctor went over a few things she could do that might help with the nausea and told them that for her the only thing that helped had been Ginger-ale.

"If you're still miserable, your doc is going to want you to have tried some of these things before you get any sort of prescription, so ya'll will be ahead of the game in that sense. There's no telling how long morning sickness will last, and as ya'll have figured out, it's not just in the morning. Now, I'll finish the paperwork and get the nurse to take that IV out so ya'll can get out of here. Congratulations." She smiled again and was gone with the sliding sound of the door.

Amelia sat up on the bed and swung her legs over the edge. Tray watched her closely, trying to read her emotions. She was exhausted, surely, but was she even excited? Now it was his turn to feel nauseous.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, Tray." Her eyes met his, and she smiled. "I'm fine. I'm...excited, terrified, overwhelmed...and really happy." She stood as he exhaled in relief, and she, despite the tangle of IV cord, stepped into his arms.

"It's going to be alright. You're going to be a great mom."

"I'll have no idea what I'm doing."

"No one does. It's part of the fun," he teased.

"I didn't have one. I don't know what they do," she said quietly, her voice muffled against his shirt.

He chuckled. "Yes, you do. You do what Octavia did, minus the baking."

"That's not funny."

"It is, too. Remember that cake you tried to make?"

"Shut up," she laughed.

He ran his hands up and down her back. "What do you think about Tray Junior? Or a good Cajun name, maybe Remy."

"How are you so sure we're having a boy? Maybe it's a girl. She could be Evangeline or Cosette."

He grinned down at her and laughed. "See, you are excited."

"I told you I was."

"Yeah, but you were freaked out."

"I'm still freaked out," she laughed.

The door opened, and a nurse came in. "Let me get that IV unhooked and you can get out of here, Mrs. Dawson."

'Thanks," Amelia said, sitting back on the bed.

The nurse removed the IV in a few quick movements and held a cotton ball over the small puncture from the needle. She put a tight Band Aid over it and gave them some discharge papers and insurance forms before telling them they were free to go.

They drove home, and he spent the weekend taking care of her while she spent it continuing to alternately throw up and sleep. On Monday morning she called her gynecologist in New Orleans to get a recommendation for an obstetrician. Luckily, her doctor had a former classmate that practiced in Monroe. The O.B. she recommended was another female, which Amelia preferred, named Haleigh Robinson, who had grown up in the area and moved home after medical school.

Amelia called for an appointment right away, but the receptionist tried to put her off several weeks. She had to explain how sick she'd been, and that she'd spent most of the last evening in the Emergency Room for dehydration. She might have also followed Tray's lead and dropped her fathers' name, and suddenly they were squeezing her in.

At three o'clock that afternoon, Tray stood by Amelia's side, holding her hand while she was stretched out on another exam table, but this time the doctor moved a wand that looked like a microphone over her belly until she stopped and adjusted a dial. She lifted her head and smiled at them, and they heard it. The faint rhythmic whooshing noise of a heartbeat.

Doctor Ludwig had confirmed her pregnancy with a blood test, and a urine test at Doctor Robinson's office confirmed it, but it hadn't been until she heard that sound that she believed. She felt so full of excitement, she could hardly breathe for those few seconds that the doctor held the wand just right.

Tray squeezed her hand because his throat was too tight to speak. She bit her lip and couldn't stop the tears that welled in her eyes. It was real. They were having a baby.

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

**A/N:**

Awww...They're pregnant! As if you all didn't know way before Amelia! Silly woman! Thanks again for reading. I'd love to hear what you think.

See you next week!


	17. Cat's in the Cradle and a Silver Spoon

**Opposites Attract**

**Chapter 17: Cat's in the Cradle and a Silver Spoon**

**Disclaimer: **These characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I'm just having fun playing with a different pair for a while.

**A/N:**

Okay. So here we go. This is what the first chapter built up to, and it's our final chapter in this little journey. I can not thank you all enough for reading and giving a non Eric/Sookie fic a chance. I was kind of afraid that my betas would be the only ones reading when I posted this, so you all have really made this special. Thanks again.

And of course, thanks **A Redhead Thing** and **E_Hunter** for being their awesome selves. They are the hot to my dog and the Wang to my Chung. I couldn't do it without you girls, SMOOCH.

Anyway, on with the show...

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

Tray was amazed at how completely undone his wife was by her pregnancy. He'd spent time with his cousins when they were pregnant and remembered that they'd gotten a little moody, but this...this was something different and it had started the second the doctor had confirmed that she was pregnant.

Finding out they were having a baby had kicked Amelia's already high sex drive up another notch while it was the opposite for Tray. Hearing they were having a baby made the thought of sex with her terrifying for him. It wasn't that he thought he was so large that he would hurt the baby, but the thought of her body rocking and shaking, and, well, contorting, he didn't see how that could be good. Their sex life turned out to be a recurring argument throughout the pregnancy and she was completely shocked that he was the one saying no.

The list of changes in her seemed to go on and on. Her morning sickness seemed to calm down, but then she started to have cravings. She had a Big Mac sandwich for lunch every day when she had been rather anti-fast food before her pregnancy. There were foods that she had liked that she suddenly hated. She had him grill salmon, and then couldn't even let him bring it in the house, before she realized they shouldn't make it again until after the baby was born. Her mood swings were epic. He never knew if he was coming home to an ecstatic mother-to-be or a crying, barely functioning lump in their bed. Her memory was shot, and it irritated her more and more each time she forgot something.

One afternoon he came home to find her on the phone with Sookie, discussing, what she called, the abnormal size of babies that ran in his family. He didn't think there was anything abnormal about it at all.

"No, seriously. Did you hear them talking while we were at Maria Starr's last weekend? All of those kids were over ten pounds. That's just not normal. You're smaller than me, Sookie. You better think about that if you're serious about Alcide."

Throughout her pregnancy, Amelia consistently measured large and, though they would never say it to her face, the cousins were worried that she would have to spend some time on bed rest. They doubted she would be able to deliver without a C-section, but again, no one was saying it to the expectant parents.

Pam called almost daily and made several trips south during Amelia's second trimester. She was continuously on Amelia's case that she should spend at least the final month of her pregnancy in New York City, maintaining that there were no 'real hospitals' near Bon Temps because it was too far away from civilization. She was sure the entire state was filled with rednecks and Cajuns. Amelia rolled her eyes and tolerated Pam's concern until a weekend visit when the older woman began to question whether a graduate of Bon Temps High School stood a chance at being accepted at Columbia or New York University. Tray had known that what Pam was doing was like poking a bear with a stick and wasn't surprised when his wife finally snapped.

"They'll get him into Tulane, and that's all I give a fuck about, Pam. No Dawson is going to some metrosexual, inner city Yankee school anyway."

"I'm sorry," Pam gasped. "Did you just call me a Yankee?"

Amelia huffed. "In a roundabout way, I guess I did."

"What the fuck, Amelia?"

"What the fuck, Pam?" she managed before they both started to laugh.

When Pam gave up on that argument, Amelia thought that was the end of it, but when she was six months along, Pam surprised her by sending a designer down to decorate the nursery. He showed up without any notice, carrying a leather portfolio and a large stack of fabric samples. He was tall and thin, with brown hair that had obviously been professionally highlighted. It was perfect, too perfect, though it was looking a little limp in the humid Southern heat.

He introduced himself as Colman, and when he shook her hand she had to stifle a giggle at how soft his hands were and how perfectly his nails were manicured. She wondered if Pam had chosen him for his appearance or if he was, in fact, a good designer because he was the definition of metrosexual. Sighing, she let him into the house, knowing that it was easier than fighting with Pam over using the designer, let alone paying him.

He whisked past Amelia, and she led him to the room that they had decided to use as the nursery. He took some measurements and paced the room, seeming to examine every inch including the closet.

They got along fine until he realized that Amelia truly didn't know the gender of the baby. He had apparently thought Pam was joking about that.

"Who doesn't find out?" he snorted. "That's just ridiculous. How do you plan?"

"We don't find out, that's who," Tray answered from the doorway. "We're hoping for a healthy baby, and that's all that matters."

"Oh, my, yes. Well," Colman said, back peddling when he heard Tray's booming voice and saw his imposing size. "I suppose it will be a great surprise."

"We don't want any little cartoon animals, and we don't want to use the generic green and yellow because we don't know the gender, but you can certianly accent with them. Beyond that, you're free to dream," Amelia said sweetly.

Colman nodded, giving the room another once over before turning back to them. "Anything that you feel you must have in the nursery?"

Amelia glanced at her husband and unconsciously rubbed her baby bump. "Well...the standards. A crib and changing table."

Colman rolled his eyes, and Tray snorted because he would have told the designer the same thing.

She pursed her lips at both of them, and then continued with a sigh. "We need a ceiling fan, but I don't want it to look like every other ceiling fan. You know?"

The designer nodded. "I do. Let's sit down and talk a little bit to let me get the feel for some things you folks like and dislike. We can look at some fabric samples too, and then I can come up with a couple of ideas for you to look at in the morning."

"How long is this going to take?" Tray asked, having no familiarity with interior designers.

"It depends on what we decide on. I may need some things shipped down here from the City, but I can't imagine more than a week or two. Maybe three."

Tray muttered something under his breath and Amelia stroked his arm. "Why don't you head back to the shop, baby." After having a few minutes to process Colman's appearance, she was beginning to get excited about the prospect of decorating the nursery. They sat down and talked for a little over an hour, and she felt much better about his soft hands when he shook her hand on the way out the door.

The next morning, Colman presented four ideas to them. There was a Hawaiian beach theme with bright hibiscus flowers and surf boards in primary colors, a travel theme with vintage posters and maps, a more sophisticated nautical theme with a round life preserver, signal flags, and plaid curtains, and, finally, a retro-modern room that included a mural on the wall of a tree that had two little owls perched in its branches. Amelia was overwhelmed with the decision and was surprised when Tray said he liked the owls right away.

"I thought we said no cute cartoon animals?" she laughed.

"We did, but those are retro birds. Right?" he asked, looking at Colman for support.

"Oh, yes. Totally different than cartoon animals."

"I feel like everyone is doing the owl thing," she sighed.

"But not like this!" Colman gushed excitedly before he began going over the details of the room in even more depth. He talked about drawer pulls and window treatments, an over-stuffed chair and window seat with owl shaped pillows and accents in shades of green and orange. By the time he was finished she was grinning, and Tray was nodding in agreement.

"Yep. Sold," Tray said with a chuckle. He kissed the top of his wife's head and left them to work out the details.

Colman left on a mission to scour Shreveport antique shops for furniture and interview several artists from Centenary College for the mural. He had ideas of what he wanted from New York, but Amelia had pushed him to try to shop locally and look for a local artist first. He'd huffed and tried to explain how much easier it would be to make a few phone calls and have everything, including a muralist, delivered, but she held her ground, and he eventually gave in.

Pam called less than an hour later, thrilled that there was what could be considered a theme for the baby's room. She was already beginning to incorporate the room design into the invitations and decorations for the baby shower she and Sookie were planning.

Six weeks later, Amelia left Pam a voice mail when she was sure the woman was avoiding her calls.

"Pam, call me. I don't know what you think you're doing, but you are not winning friends here. The entire male population of Bon Temps feels like this is a threat to their masculinity." She sighed into the phone. "A couples shower? How many times do I have to explain to you that this isn't New York."

Conveniently, Pam missed all of her calls and refused to address her questions when she responded to Amelia's emails. Sookie maintained that she didn't know anything. She'd been given the task of renting the VFW Hall and ordering a cake from a baker that Pam approved of. Pam said she would take care of everything else if Sookie agreed to be available to help set up before the shower.

Sookie and Tray's cousin had been dating exclusively since the weekend in Shreveport and Alcide had told his father that he was interested in moving back home, going so far as to tell him that he was willing to work in the office and learn the business end of the company. It had been a big step for Alcide; and according to Cal, Jackson knew it and was looking for a new project manager in New Orleans. Amelia was excited for them and thrilled that Tray's cousin would be moving closer. Tray was a little shocked that his cousin was ready to settle down but glad that it was with someone like Sookie. He liked Sookie and could imagine their children growing up the way he and Alcide had together, but he wasn't telling anyone that little tidbit.

The day of the shower, Amelia found herself riding into town with Tray and Alcide since Sookie was already at the VFW hall helping Pam decorate. The cousins moaned and complained the entire way into town.

"I'm not playing shower games," Alcide whined. "Tray will kick my ass if I put my hands on your waist to measure you with toilet paper or something around your stomach."

Amelia laughed out loud. "How the hell do you even know about shower games?"

"I have sisters and a shitload of girl cousins," he said seriously. "I suck at that find the baby pin in the rice game. Oh. and I'm not smelling any fucking diapers to guess what kind of random shit, well it's not actually shit...but you know, whatever they've put in the diapers."

"Ohmygod!" she laughed. "I'm going to pee! Tray, make him stop talking!"

"Alcide, shut up so my wife doesn't piss herself on the way to her own party." Tray chuckled, shaking his head. "But you're exactly right; if you put your hands on my wife like that, I'll have your nuts."

Amelia giggled and gave Tray a dirty look. "Both of you stop talking," she said, turning up the radio.

Despite the uncertainty about what exactly Pam meant by a couples shower, their male friends were still coming. Jason and Hoyt were bringing Hoyt's mother, Sam was coming with Tara and Terry, and Cherise assured them that Cal would be there come hell or high water.

The parking lot was half full when they arrived, and Amelia was a little overwhelmed by how many friends she'd made while living with Tray in his small town. She imagined a shower in New Orleans would have been just as large, but it wouldn't have meant nearly as much to her. She bit back a laugh as Alcide walked in front of them, carrying a large stuffed monkey under his arm.

She elbowed Tray and nodded towards his cousin. "He looks so natural," she laughed.

Tray snorted. "I can't imagine him with kids."

"He'll be great. Just like you will."

He grinned down at her. "Well, I hope so because it's too late for me to back out now."

"Damn straight," she laughed as they caught up with Alcide who held the door for them.

They walked into the hall, and Amelia was amazed by the transformation. Pam had definitely had more help than just Sookie. The room was decorated in accents of orange and green to match the design in the baby's room. There was even a very large potted tree standing near the end of the buffet with plush owls perched in its limbs.

"Hey, ya'll!" Sookie called as she came over to greet them. She gave Tray and Amelia each a quick hug before settling into Alcide's arms for a longer embrace.

Tray shook his head at them and chuckled. "Whipped," he muttered.

"So whipped," Amelia agreed.

"Shut it," Alcide growled over Sookie's shoulder while she just grinned.

"Ladies," Pam said as she came to stand next to them, putting an arm around Amelia and nodding to Sookie. "Boys."

"Pam, this looks amazing," Amelia said with excitement. "What's the plan?"

"The caterers are bringing out the food and after everyone eats we'll break up into two groups. You can open your gifts, and the men can go into the bar area and do man things."

"What?" Tray asked in surprise.

"Well, you can stay if you want," Pam said, looking at him like he was crazy. "But there will be liquor and poker in the bar."

"You're the best Pam-in-law ever!" Alcide said with a grin.

"Poker?" Amelia asked.

"Yes, poker. What the hell did you think I was going to have all of these men do? Smell shitty diapers?"

Tray snorted, and Alcide gave him a dirty look.

"I didn't know, and you wouldn't tell me anything!" Amelia laughed, then she turned and pretended to glare at Sookie. "And you, I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

Sookie held her hands up in defense. "Hey, now. All I knew was that it wasn't going to be what you thought it was."

"I was enjoying your distress way too much to give away the surprise," Pam laughed.

Tray put his arms around his wife from behind. "Well, I'm glad that it wasn't what we thought it was. Thanks for setting all of this up, Pam."

"Any time," she smiled, but her eyes looked sad and then, in a flash, it was gone. "You know how I love to bring culture down to this dirty swampland."

"Keep that up and we really will name the baby Swampy," Amelia teased.

"Fuck. That could cost one of you some inheritance, that's all I'm saying," Pam deadpanned.

"Good thing she's independently wealthy," Alcide laughed.

"Watch it, tool boy or I won't tell you about the farmhouse I want you to remodel for me by the river."

"Oh, I'm all ears," Alcide said, his eyes lighting up as he took Pam's arm and they moved into the hall with Sookie.

Amelia glanced at her husband. "Did she say what I thought she did?"

"I think she did."

"That is, at the same time, both wonderful and terrifying."

"Yes. Yes it is," he laughed.

They settled in for a delicious buffet with shrimp and cheese grits, salad, biscuits and berry cobbler. Through the course of the meal the nervousness of the male guests was slowly replaced with excitement as they got word of the impending poker game. The men began to eat faster and were rapidly excusing themselves to the bar area. Amelia smiled up at her husband as he leaned down and kissed her gently before he threw away their plates.

"You want me to stay and help you open gifts?"

"No." She laughed. "You go play poker. You can see everything when we load it into the Jeep."

He gave her a small nod and sauntered off behind Alicde into the other room.

Pam had Amelia come to the front of the room to open her gifts, and she did, in fact, have the guests try to guess how big around Amelia's belly was. Tray's cousin Selah won, having torn off the length of toilet paper closest to her actual size, and Pam presented her with a Victoria's Secret gift card, saying that shower prizes were always crap so she'd chosen something that a woman actually wanted.

Tray was shocked when he came back into the larger hall to see the gigantic pile of gifts that had been unwrapped near his wife. He recognized the high chair and exersaucer amongst bags that appeared to be filled with clothing and toys. He'd thought that they had already bought a large amount things for the baby and couldn't get his mind around the idea that they actually needed more. He still wasn't sure he believed Amelia when she said they might not _need_ it all, but they would use most of it.

The final weeks of her pregnancy had flown by with the final touches to the nursery, a tour of the labor and delivery department at the hospital in Monroe and visits to Pam's new house. Tray called it her summer home; she called it a tax write off.

Amelia felt fine during the last few weeks of her pregnancy, and they were lulled into a sort of relaxed sense of security. She was, however, exhausted and didn't move around too much unless she had to. Even though she was just over in the house, it wasn't unusual for her to call on the phone down to the garage instead of walking over from the house as she'd done in the past. He wasn't surprised at all when the phone rang around eleven in the morning about a week before her due date, but her words sent him into a panic.

"I think my fucking water broke."

"Wait. What?" he asked, standing quickly and nearly hitting his head on the raised hood of the car he was working on. "What do you mean _you think_ your water broke?"

"Oh, I mean it did. I cleaned it up as best I could, but I think we should probably go to the hospital."

He was holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder, trying not to drop it, as he quickly wiped his hands so he could meet her at the house. "You cleaned it up?" he asked in disbelief. "Never mind. Grab your bag, and we'll call your doctor from the car."

He expected her to be ready when he entered the house, but he heard her moving around in their bedroom. His heart sped up. What if they didn't get to the hospital in time? He didn't want to deliver the baby on the side of the road. He didn't want to deliver the baby anywhere.

"Amelia!" he called.

"I'm coming!"

Her voice came from the bathroom, and when he found her she was sitting on the edge of the tub rinsing something off her legs. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Shaving my legs...what I can see of them."

"Are you kidding me? We're having a baby! Get in the car!" He was anxious and speaking loudly and fast.

"Baby, my contractions are still ten minutes apart." She dried off her legs and pulled on a pair of pants. "I had to change anyway."

"Oh my god," he grumbled, not really understanding why she'd changed.

She threw a very wet pair of yoga pants at him. "Did you want me to wear those?"

"What the hell happened to them?"

"My. Water. Broke."

"Oh!" he said, finally understanding why she'd needed to change. "Yeah. I guess you had to change."

She laughed and took his face in her hands. "Baby, I'm pretending like this really isn't happening yet. So just get me to the hospital - oh fuck." Her eyes got wide and she clutched her stomach as she felt a contraction. "We need to go."

He nodded and grabbed her overnight bag from the chair in the bedroom on their way to the car. He'd broken several traffic laws during the drive to the hospital and prepared himself to drop her father's name again if they didn't check her in immediately, but, thankfully, he hadn't needed to do it.

A nurse checked them in and took Amelia's vital signs. Her contractions came harder and faster, and her good mood disintegrated. Six hours later the baby was crowning and she was still cursing his name and saying nasty things about the size of babies in Tray's family.

Doctor Robinson popped up from the sheet draped over Amelia's legs. "Just a couple more pushes, Amelia."

She squeezed Tray's hand so tightly that he had to hold back from wincing and growled, "Does she think I'm not pushing?"

"No, that's doctor talk for you're almost done."

"You're so full of shit, and this is entirely your fault."

"I know. Just push a couple more times, and you'll be all done."

She panted and groaned, glaring at him when she could through the final contractions. The doctor called a play by play from between her legs and suddenly, she called out, "It's a boy!" and there was a squalling, dark haired, large baby boy being placed in Amelia's arms.

"Hello, son. Welcome to the world," Tray laughed, looking down at their baby.

"Do you have a name?" the nurse asked.

"Thomas Johnathan Jackson Dawson," they said together, grinning.

The nurse looked back at them with a smile, but it was obvious she didn't know the significance.

"She said I could choose the name if it was a boy." Tray grinned. "He's named after Stonewall Jackson."

"He's a Civil War buff," Amelia added, not taking her eyes off of their son.

"That's sweet. Ya'll going to call him T.J.?" the nurse asked as she continued to move around the room putting away supplies and rolling the clear hospital issue bassinet closer to the bed.

"Um, I don't know," Amelia said, glancing at Tray, who shrugged. "I guess we'll have to see if it fits him."

"Good plan," the nurse agreed with a wink. "I'll give ya'll a few seconds, and then I'm going to need to take him for a minute. You can come with if you'd like." She nodded at Tray.

"Oh, Tray. He's perfect," Amelia cooed, seeming to him as if she'd already forgot the pain.

"See, I told you, a couple more pushes."

"It's not over. You owe me for this. My breasts are going to be all jacked up, and who knows when I'll get my bladder control back. So you don't tell me it's over."

Picking the wet washcloth up from the side table, he wiped her face again, her eyes never leaving their son.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

"I'm fine. He's beautiful." Her eyes finally left the baby and met his. "You're not lonely anymore, are you?"

He laughed and leaned down to kiss her gently on the lips. "No, I think you took care of that."

She laced their fingers together. "Yeah. I think we did."

They grinned at each other for a few minutes, until the nurse interrupted to take the baby to the other side of the room to clean him off. Tray followed her and the doctor stepped back between Amelia's legs to finish the delivery. It was quick and painless, though that might have had something to do with the epidural that hadn't worn off. She was glad that Tray's cousin's had told her what would happen in the delivery room so she knew what to expect, and before she knew it the room had cleared out and it was just the three of them.

Tray held the baby after she had nursed him, telling her to take a nap. She was still on some good pain medication and was completely exhausted so she wasn't going to argue with that idea. Sighing in contentment, she watched Tray as he talked quietly to their son. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but somehow the words didn't matter. It was the most amazing thing she'd ever seen. Even though she'd found her place in the last few years with him, and Pam had filled a large hole in her life, she finally, and for the first time, felt like she was part of a family.

**-~-~-~-~OA-~-~-~-~-**

**A/N:**

Thanks again, I know I keep saying it, but I really mean it! I have a hard time finishing stories, because I kind of want them to go on forever...so posting the last chapter is always rough for me. LOL I have some new ideas up my sleeve, and a Twilight fic that I'm going to start posting soon, so I'll be around. See you soon!

Also - I really dig these owls and want to order them for my son's room. (Everyone envision my husband's eye rolls at FF invading our home.)

Owls from Etsy:

http:/ny-image2(dot)etsy(dot)com/il_fullxfull(dot)224270554(dot)jpg

http:/ny-image3(dot)etsy(dot)com/il_fullxfull(dot)195525891(dot)jpg

Trendypeasdecals: http:/www(dot)etsy(dot)com/shop/trendypeas

plush owl http:/ny-image3(dot)etsy(dot)com/il_fullxfull(dot)222205715(dot)jpg

http:/www(dot)etsy(dot)com/people/hemccoy


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